


Monster Under the Bed and Demon Between the Sheets

by moonflowers



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Abundant swearing, Blood, Crossover, F/M, Family Feels, Ghosts, Hand Jobs, I'll update tags and pairings as I go, Kissing, M/M, Norse Gods Incarnate, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Snarky boys, So much fucking with the timeline, Vampires, Werewolves, commitment issues, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonflowers/pseuds/moonflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders meets some very unusual people on a trip to the UK. Unfortunately, they and their problems follow him home. Fortunately, one of them turns out to be more than worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Help I Mitchers'd and I can't get up. 
> 
> I'm going to bed now. Hopefully all this will make more sense to me in the morning.

Why the ever loving _fuck_ had he chosen England? 

Sure, it had seemed like a reasonable idea from a business perspective, but the weather left a lot to be desired – if he wanted endless cloud and sudden rain he could have stayed at home. And that was definitely not an option for the time being: his youngest brother Axl had just become the human vessel for the soul of Odin, which, in the Johnson family, was nowhere near as strange as it sounded. And Anders, regarded as something of a bad influence, had been temporarily banished from the family until Axl got his shit together and came to terms with the fact that he and his brothers were Norse Gods incarnate.   
So, instead of whining and refusing to budge, like everyone had clearly expected him to do, Anders had for once taken the high road and did as he was told, using his ‘banishment’ as an opportunity to get out of New Zealand and drum up some international business for his PR company.   
Which was why he was currently trudging back to his crappy hotel on a misty Bristol night after an evening at a thoroughly disappointing bar. He could have at least started in London, and not this shithole. More to the point, why the fuck hadn’t he gone to the states? If he’d chosen more wisely, he could have been sunning himself by a pool and unleashing the Norse God of poetry upon unsuspecting American girls with impressive curves, all still without the inconvenience of a language barrier. But no, he was in Bristol. And to make things worse, he was damp, only slightly drunk, and entirely alone.

Or so he thought, until he heard a soft laugh from the shadows behind him. And wasn’t that just wonderful, he was living the cliché opening scene in a horror movie. Tugging his jacket closer around himself, he sped up, hoping to avoid whoever it was lurking behind him.   
Alas, no such luck.  
He turned down a side street in the hope it was a shortcut, realising too late what a stupid idea that was.

“Good evening,” a figure stepped out of the darkness in front of him. Anders nodded and gave a tight smile before swiftly turning back the way he came. The only problem with this being that the end of the alley was now blocked by two more figures, their faces hidden in shadow. 

Oh balls.   
He really could have done without a mugging. The suit he was wearing cost more than a month’s rent for most people, and the combined value of his credit cards and top of the line phone didn’t bear thinking about. Luckily for Anders, he had his gift. To be the mortal vessel for Bragi, Norse God of poetry, had many upsides. All he had to do was crack out his powers of persuasion and his attackers would walk away, leaving his dignity and his wallet perfectly intact.

“Good evening,” he replied, the voice of Bragi deep and heavy in his throat, “if you’d be so kind as to let me pass? I’d be very grateful.” There was a pause in which Anders fully expected for the strangers to do exactly as he’d asked, just like they always did. But tonight really wasn’t his night.

“What?” The shady man in front of him snapped, confused and shaking his head like there was something stuck in his ear. “No! No.” At his signal, the other two closed in around Anders, forcing him to back up against the wall of the alley. “So,” their leader snarled close to his face, and Anders caught the sweet, metallic scent of blood, “we’d very much like to know what you are, if _you’d_ be so kind.”

“I – I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Anders’ voice came out high and shaky, with little of his usual confidence. How did they know? How could they possibly know he was different? He forced himself to breathe deep, and called up Bragi to the surface again. “There is nothing at all out of the ordinary about me,” he purred, eyes fixed on the half-hidden face of the man in front of him. “I’m not worth the trouble.” He could see the man hesitate as Bragi started to work his magic. “If I were you, I’d forget all about this, turn around, and go home. It would be for the best, for all of us.”

Anders began to panic just a little when his attackers didn’t immediately turn around and leave him in peace. But nor did they come any closer; they just stared at him, frowning and bewildered. One covered his ears and shook his head. His sudden movement appeared to snap the leader out of the trance he’d been in. He blinked a few times in rapid succession, before hissing of all things, and shoving Anders hard against the wall.

“I won’t say it again,” he whispered dangerously, before drawing his fist back to punch Anders in the face, and _fuck that hurt._ “What. Are. You?”

“I – “ Anders reached up tentatively to touch his apparently split lip, blood sliding across his fingertips. He could have sworn he saw the smallest of the attackers lick his lips. Why the bloody fuck wasn’t Bragi doing his thing? He cleared his throat and let the rich tones of the poet come forward for one last ditch attempt to get himself out of this mess. “Listen to me, and listen well. I really don’t – “

“Leave him!”

Both Anders and his attackers flinched at the sudden shout, turning to look to the other end of the alley, where three more figures were rapidly drawing closer. Fantastic work Anders, you’ve managed to land yourself in the middle of some weird British gang feud. 

“Oh, it’s you,” the leader of the thugs sounded thoroughly unimpressed with the newcomers, “and you’ve brought your pets. How sweet.” 

“Is that what they’re calling us now? Your _pets?”_ One of the three new arrivals asked another, and Anders could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Brilliant.” 

“Now is not the time George,” the man in the centre bit back. 

“Well when is the time Mitchell, hmm? Answer me that.”

“Would you two stop it?” The third newcomer spoke, a woman. “It’s like you’re married, it’s embarrassing.”

_What the fuck?_

“The three of you are an embarrassment to us all,” Anders’ attacker shouted back, and oh shit, he had forgotten he was currently being held hostage and bleeding in an unknown alleyway. Apparently his shout had caused the other three to remember where they were too, as the tall man in the centre – Mitchell, was it? – snarled and began to stalk closer. 

“I said, leave him.”

“And why would we do that?” he replied, smirk coming through in his voice, and his followers sniggered. 

“Because you’ll have me to answer to if you don’t. That’s why.”

The world seemed to still as his attacker mulled the threat over, and Anders was keenly aware of the blood dripping down his chin, the grit under his fingernails. 

“Fine,” the thug drawled with a sigh. Anders just had time to feel relieved before he saw stars as the bastard shoved him against the wall again, smashing his head on the brick. With a pained shout, he slid to the ground. “This isn’t the end you know,” one of the thugs called back as they stalked away, blending back into the shadows under the streetlamps. 

Anders could feel his heart rate lowering to something more normal as he heard the attackers retreating. But he wasn’t an idiot, despite what his family may say about him. He was quite possibly seriously injured, and three complete strangers were staring down at him with undisguised interest – three strangers who had had the balls to chase off his violent attackers. Oh yes, he was far from out of the woods yet.

“Who are you?” He panted out. Yes, that’s right Anders, agitate the intimidating strangers. On top of that, he was still too numb with shock trust himself to stand, so remained sitting slumped against the alley wall, the image of defeat. And his suit was ruined with dirt, grit and his own blood. Great.

“No need to get snappy,” Mitchell shot him a grin, “we just saved your arse.”

“Yeah, you did,” Anders winced at the dull throbbing in his head, “and I’m very grateful for it, believe me. But I still want to know who the fuck you are.”

“Does it really matter?” The man asked with an exasperated sigh, and Anders couldn’t decide if he was sincere or mocking. 

He tried to shrug disinterestedly, but stopped because it fucking hurt. “I guess not. I’m just curious.”

“About?” The stranger raised an eyebrow in question.

“Why you’d bother stepping in to save me from those idiots,” he gestured in the direction the thugs had run off in, “when you could have easily stayed out of it all together. You chose to jump headlong into this mess I got myself into. Why bother? You don’t know me.”

He looked down at Anders, considering, before eventually replying with something he was definitely not expecting. “You smell different.”

Anders blinked. “I’m sorry. _What?”_

“You smell different,” the man repeated, “not entirely human.”

Anders was beginning to wonder whether those freaky bastards had actually succeeded in knocking him unconscious and he was experiencing some ridiculous coma dream. “I... _smell_ different?”

He nodded. “Not human.”

“Mitchell, are you sure we should be –“

“Shh George,” he cut the twitchy man off with a wave of his hand. “Not only that. You can see Annie.”

Anders looked to the girl standing to the left, who gave him a bright smile and a wave. “Hello again. Wet met earlier.”

“We... did?” For the life of him Anders couldn’t place her. But then, girls seemed to blur into one at the best of times, and this was decidedly not the best of times. 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You were waiting for a taxi. You called me sweetheart and stared at my boobs. Not too subtly, I might add. If I wasn’t so surprised you could see me, I would have slapped you one.”

He couldn’t help but do so again – he didn’t forget a boob. “Ah yeah, that’s right.” He looked up to see the two men glowering at him. “I remember you. Taxi girl.”

“It’s Annie, actually,” she drew her cardigan over her chest, but looked a little pleased all the same. 

“So, let me get this right. You can definitely see her?” The second man, George, asked him with a frown. 

“What?” This was making less sense by the second. “Of course I can.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be able to,” Mitchell grinned, sharp and dangerous, and Anders would definitely tap that, if he were that way inclined. Which he was not, thank you, despite what his brothers said. But all thoughts of a sexual nature were pushed from Anders’ mind with the next thing he said. “She’s dead. Annie’s dead. She’s a ghost.”

Anders snapped his gaze back to her, hoping for some proof this was all a lie. But all he saw was a girl with a slightly embarrassed smile on her face and her cardigan pulled close around her. “What?”

“She’s a supernatural being,” the sexy bastard continued, creeping ever closer. “We all are, we three. And your friends from earlier.”

“You’re trying to tell me that you’re all dead?”

“Yes and no. My point is, only other supernatural beings can see ghosts. Take George here,” he gestured to the other man, “werewolf.” George just rolled his eyes and looked entirely fed up with the whole thing. “Then there’s me.”  
Anders looked back to Mitchell, who was idly twirling one of his scattered JPR business cards in his gloved hands. His eyes moved up to Mitchell’s face, where his eyes had gone black and glossy, and teeth sharper than they should be. Holy fuck. “So tell me Anders Johnson,” he said with a smirk, crouched inches from Anders’ face, “what the fuck are you?”

The next part, Anders carefully left out of all future re-tellings of this tale. The part where he shrieked like a girl, scrambled to his feet, and ran back to his hotel as fast as his wobbly legs could manage. Fucking Bristol.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit of necessary filler, but hopefully still enjoyable enough.  
> Next chapter, shit gets real when their paths cross again :)

“Has it started yet?” Mitchell asked as he closed the front door behind him, and shrugging out of his jacket.

“No, not yet,” said George from the sofa, “but Annie’s made you three cups of tea in the meantime. Where’ve you been?”

“Nowhere important,” he yawned and flopped next to George on the sofa.

“And here’s another,” Annie appeared next to them, pushing a freshly made mug of tea into each of their hands, “can’t have my favourite boys going thirsty.” She flashed them a grin and wriggled into the gap between them on the sofa.

“Thanks, Annie,” Mitchell smiled and took a sip. 

“Shh, it’s starting,” George sat up straighter and turned up the volume on the TV, sloshing tea on his leg in the process. “Ahh, shit that’s hot.”

Mitchell snorted, “Now whose being noisy?”

“You boys are ridiculous,” Annie rolled her eyes and clutched her own undrinkable tea to her chest.

“Hey, Real Hustle is sacred to us,” Mitchell said, only half joking.

“Exactly, which is why you both need to shhh!” George pointedly turned up the volume again.

For a while, they watched in silence, as unknowing members of the public were conned out of their money using every trick in the book. Mitchell had come to draw comfort from this; just the three of them, doing normal things like normal people. Until something happened to throw him off course again, like the other night. He was still partially lost in his own thoughts when Annie spoke up.

“Mitchell, where were you earlier?”

“Just out,” he replied with a shrug, “bought a lottery ticket. You never know.” He shot her a grin and a wink and hoped she bought it. He hadn’t really gone out to get a lottery ticket. Well he’d picked one up on the way home, but that wasn’t the actual reason. He’d been to the travel agent.

“Yeah,” Annie didn’t look entirely convinced, “yeah, course.”

“So,” said George as the ten o’clock news started, “are we going to talk about the other night at all?”

“What about it?” Mitchell feigned ignorance and finished off his nearly cold tea.

“What about it? What do you mean, ‘what about it?’” said George, agitated, “a group of vampires attack some apparently random man, or whatever he is, who smelt like nothing I’ve ever smelt before. They saw him as a potential threat, Mitchell. He could be dangerous, and we still have no idea what he is.”

“Can you smell him anymore?” Mitchell set his mug down.

“What?”

“You two and your smelling things, honestly,” Annie started gathering up empty mugs, leaving those still full of tea on the table, “it’s creepy.”

“Neither can I,” Mitchell ignores the ghost’s input, “and if neither of us can smell him, then he must have moved on. Problem solved, no harm done.”

“I –“ George thought about it for a moment, before slumping back onto the sofa, “I suppose you’re right. I still don’t like it though.”

“Good,” Mitchell got to his feet, “if that’s all sorted, I’m going to head to be –“

“I could see him,” Annie cut in.

“Annie, we could all see him,” George said gently.

“No, no that’s not what I meant,” she bit her lip. “Look, you two can smell him, or hear his blood pumping, or whatever other freaky shit that comes with your own specific supernatural package, right?” 

“...Yes?”

“Right, well to me, he looked different.”

“What kind of different?” Mitchell sat back down, attention piqued. 

“Well,” Annie tucked her legs under her on the sofa, “I assume he looked mostly the same to me as he did to you – human, essentially. But there was something else. He – he was kind of... glowing?”

Mitchell sniggered. “What?”

“There was this sort of light around him. Gold and yellow, sort of like a candle flame? Not very bright, just... noticeable?”

“He was glowing?” Mitchell was still struggling to hold back his laughter.

“Stop laughing,” Annie threw a cushion at him.

“I’m sorry, sorry,” he tried to keep a straight face, “so you mean like God, or an... an angel, or some shit? Well, he couldn’t have been anything like that – I don’t do God, remember? Would have practically burned my eyes out.”

“Hmm,” said George, “that’s hardly comforting.”

“I think it was his aura,” Annie said quietly.

“His aura? Come _on,_ Annie,” Mitchell groaned, “don’t start with that hippy shit.”

“No, listen,” she said, excited, “I’ve noticed it with you two before, and others like us. Not all the time or anything, just little flashes.”

“Oh really,” Mitchell said sceptically, scratching at the over-grown stubble on his chin, “and what does my ‘aura’ look like?”

“Well, like I said, it’s sort of a glow, or a haze, a smudge of colour around your body. Like George, yours is a kind of muddy brown, sorry.” She patted his shoulder in sympathy. “And Mitchell, yours is black, obviously –“

“Obviously?”

“Obviously, although it does fade to a sort of purple when you’re happy.”

“...Right. Then how come this Mr Johnson’s was so bright?”

Annie shrugged. Don’t know. He must be special.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. He’s gone, and we should all just forget about it. Goodnight.”

Ignoring the confused looks of his housemates, he stomped his way upstairs to his room, slamming the door shut behind him, harder than he’d meant to.  
He absently thumbed the thin travel brochure he had folded up in his jeans pocket, along with the business card he’d picked up from the floor of the alleyway. If he wasn’t very much mistaken, a certain Mr Anders Johnson had had a New Zealand accent, and a trail that was fading fast. A trail that currently ended at Bristol airport. Mitchell had followed the scent himself earlier that day; that scent that was so much more than human, and so much less that the urge to feed from the stranger was so deadened that he could have been a ghost. The scent of Anders Johnson was a total mystery, and one that Mitchell fully intended to solve. Alone. He refused to drag Annie and George into his mess of an existence once again. 

~*~

Fuck Mike. 

Fuck Axl. 

Most importantly, fuck Bristol.   
Anders was more than willing to risk his brothers’ combined rage if it meant he didn’t have to stay another minute in that godforsaken city. He’d been on the plane home for hours now, and he was still so messed up by the whole experience, he didn’t even have the energy to bang the foxy air hostess in the toilet. Surprisingly, alcohol wasn’t helping much either; the scotch he’d ordered did little more than make him feel faintly sick. Luckily for him, he had less than an hour to go before landing.   
He was starting to find it difficult to block out the incident from the other night: there was only so long he could stop himself from feeling the brick wall against his back, cold air in his lungs and hear the soft laughter of his mysterious attacker. Sleep was a definite no-no, if the scant hours he’d managed since the incident were any indication. He shuddered and knocked back the remainder of his drink, for all the good it did him. As for him not being able to get his Bragi on when they attacked him... he was doing his best to ignore that. Well, that wasn’t technically true – Bragi had worked just fine, he’d felt the warm syrupy purr of the God’s voice speaking through his body, but it had only slowed them down: they had seemed disorientated by his commands, then carried on as they pleased. Anders had never experienced this before, his powers had always worked on anyone he wished them to... anyone that is, except for other Gods. Surely those bastards weren’t Gods...

The plane finally landed, and Anders worked his way through airport security as quickly as possible, using Bragi to speed the process along if things got slow and inconvenient. Just as he planned, Ty was there to pick him up, leaning against his shitty van and looking thoroughly pissed off.

“Hello little brother,” Anders grinned and pulled him into a hug, “how’s it going?”

“Shut up, Anders,” Ty gently pushed him away with a half-smile, “why the fuck are you back so soon? And why couldn’t you just get a taxi?”

“I wanted to see my best brother, that a crime? And what kind of greeting is that, didn’t you miss me at all?”

“Mmm, maybe a little,” Ty admitted grudgingly, “but that still doesn’t answer my question. My first question. Mike’s going to fucking kill you.”

Anders snorted and waved him away, climbing into the passenger side of Ty’s van. “Mike needs to chill the fuck out.”

“Seriously Anders,” Ty wrenched open the driver door and got in, “we all agreed it would be best for you to... you know, keep your distance, just while Anders gets used to the whole God thing.”

“You really all think I’m going to corrupt our poor baby brother that badly? I am hurt.”

“It’s not that Anders, don’t be a dick. It’s a lot to take in, you know how it is. And on top of all that, him being Odin... we were just worried it would go to his head and he’d do something stupid. And you have to admit you can be a bit... irresponsible, at the best of times.”

“Whatever. I’m back now.” Anders tipped the passenger seat back as far as it could go. “And I’m staying with you for a few days, by the way.”

“What?” Ty nearly drove the van up the pavement. “Why?”

“Because I got the builders in while I was away, didn’t I? My place is a total mess. I wasn’t planning on being home for another two weeks, at least,” he grimaced at the thought of all that dust everywhere in his shiny flat, “so I’m staying with you.”

“Hmm,” Ty agreed, albeit grudgingly,” I suppose I can live with that.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, little bro,” he ruffled Ty’s hair. He was also still a bit nervy about sleeping alone in an empty house after his incident in the UK, but Ty didn’t need to know that.

“Yeah yeah. Now fuck off, do you want me to crash the van? And no bringing girls back to my place, got it?”

“Aww, what?”

“I don’t want to listen to you shagging all night, no matter how nice the girl – oh fuck!” Ty slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road. It was decidedly not a good day for Ty’s driving.

“The hell is wrong with you!?” Anders gripped the sides of his chair in panic.

“Nothing, nothing,” Ty started up the van again and carried on, “it’s just... never mind, it’s not important.”

“Come on, what?”

“I was,” he cleared his throat, and Anders noticed a faint flush up his brother’s neck, “I invited Dawn over for dinner tonight.”

“I thought you couldn’t blush,” he poked at his brother’s cheek, which, sure enough, was icy under his touch, “something to do with you being all cold and shit. But here we are.”

“Piss off Anders,” Ty swatted him away one handed, “and don’t be stupid, I’m cold, not dead.”

“So you finally asked her out, huh?”

Ty smiled, unable to hide his genuine happiness. “Yes.”

“Didn’t think you’d ever have the balls to do that. I seriously thought we’d still be dealing with your unrequited love on our deathbeds.”

“Fuck’s sake Anders –“

“Whatever. Look, swing by the office, I’ll tell Dawn that you’re very sorry, but I’ve just got back from a very traumatising business trip and I need some quality time with my best brother to get over it all. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“Yes, I’m sure she will,” Ty agreed, but sounded far from happy about it. “But you know I hate when you use your God powers on her. And what ‘traumatic experience?’”

“I know you don’t like it,” Anders replied, smoothly ignoring Ty’s second question, “but would you rather have to let her down yourself? At least my way, she won’t feel jilted, and you have more chance of getting into her what I’m sure are very sensible panties in the near future.”

Ty groaned as he pulled up outside the JPR premises. “Alright. Fine. Just... be nice.”

“When am I not nice to a lady?” said Anders, pretending to be hurt, as he climbed out of the van.

“You totally owe me!” Ty yelled out of the van window as Anders headed to the building entrance.

It would be worth owing his brother, if it meant that Anders didn’t have to sleep in an empty house, with every creak and tap made in the night magnified tenfold by his frayed nerves. It would make his half-formed dreams of shadowed faces and the scent of blood easier to bear if he knew there was someone familiar in the next room. He couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be before his memories of sharp teeth and pitch-dark eyes faded. Hopefully soon; he really fucking needed a decent night sleep. Forcing the imagined feel of cold fingers wrapped around his throat from his mind, he pasted on a wide smile and went to find Dawn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've watched both of the shows, you'll know that religion plays a fairly important part in both of them. I personally have no strong feelings about any particular religion, so please don’t take the characters bitching about it to mean that I do. Just in case it triggers some people.

Anders had been home for almost two weeks, and he still couldn’t quite get back into his groove. He saw non-existent beings lurking in shadowy corners, heard soft laughter where there was no one to make it, closed his eyes and was faced with barely concealed fangs and glossy black eyes. Luckily, most of this could be neatly avoided by taking a shit load of sleeping pills. On the downside, this meant he felt like death warmed up during the day; he was sluggish and unmotivated at work, and he barely had the energy to hit on women at night. They still warmed to him due to his very nature as a God, and of course they were still powerless to resist his words, but though he could have had any woman he chose, he just... didn’t _feel_ like it. So, for the third night that week, he was wandering back home after another disappointing trip to the bar, mildly pissed and flinching away from imagined figures in the dark. He was so used to seeing things that weren’t really there, that when a man stepped out from the shadows, long knife pointed directly at Anders’ throat, it took him several long moments to register that it was really happening.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered as his brain caught up with his eyes, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Even in speech, you are disgusting. There is no limit to your foulness, it seems.” The stranger stepped forward into the buzzing glow of a street lamp. He wore dark clothing that blended with the city shadows, and his greying hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail that accentuated his pointed face. To Anders’ immense relief, the eyes that stared back at him were grey and human, not black. Of course, none of that seemed important in comparison to the blade he had pointed inches from Anders’ neck.

“Err... excuse me?” What the hell did he mean by that? Anders knew he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but come on. 

“You are an abomination,” the man sneered, “a blasphemous demon that must be destroyed.”

“What the ever loving fuck are you talking about?” Anders was starting to get irritated; why was it always him who got mugged by crazies? This was the second time in less than a month, how come none of his brothers had had to deal with this shit? He was about to say as much, but then orange light from the lamp glinted off the blade, and he held his tongue.

“Do you not see?” The strange man was edging closer, and Anders stepped back to keep the distance between him and the knife-point. “Your very existence goes against the will of our Lord. You and your brothers, false Gods, and every other dark and loathsome creature that crawls this earth must be put to death. It is a necessary cleansing, and I am glad to do it, for glorious will be the outcome.” He bared his teeth, “prepare for death, unholy scum.”

If Anders hadn’t been so terrified, he probably would have rolled his eyes at the utter bollocks this guy was spouting. As it was, it was rather hard to ignore the knife at his throat, and the flashes of the last time he was cornered in the dark that kept flicking unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He swallowed. “Can I just say one thing?”

“If you must. But be quick.”

Anders steeled himself, and called up the voice of Bragi from within him. As far as he could tell, this crackpot was mortal, and a few firm words from the God of poetry should change his mind and send him on his way. Despite Anders’ knocked confidence, he knew Bragi was his best shot for getting out of this frankly quite ridiculous mess alive. He only hoped it worked better than last time.  
As he took in a breath to speak, he was knocked off his feet by a great dark blur, and fell to the ground with an undignified yelp that he would later deny all knowledge of. Winded, he looked up to see a dark figure between him and the knife-wielding nutcase.

“I’ve just about had it with you Godbotherers,” the newcomer said, and Jesus fuck, Anders knew that voice. That voice, still soft and lilting despite the threat that dripped from it. That voice that went with the inhuman face that haunted his sleepless nights. And if the horrified expression on the religious nut’s face was anything to go by, Anders was correct. 

“Get back, demon,” his voice was quiet but steady, and Anders had to hand it to him, the weirdo must have balls to be able to speak back to that. Keeping the knife steady, he fumbled with a chain around his neck.

“Don’t you even think about it,” the newcomer snarled, and the man stilled. “I’ve had it with you,” he repeated, “with all of you, and your ridiculous obsession with cleansing the world of things you cannot even begin to understand, you self-righteous bastard,” he spat, and Anders could practically see the depthless eyes and pointed teeth of the man standing over him.

“You are just as bad as that worm you’re defending. Both of you must die, for the good of mankind.” He was holding the knife steady, straight at them.

The dark stranger laughed softly, and Anders couldn’t help but shiver at the cold fear that ran up his spine. What the fuck was his name...? “That’s where you’re wrong, just like you lot always are. But you’re too narrow-minded to see it. I am so, so much worse than him, my friend. I’m what parents tell their children is lurking under the bed. He’s not the monster. I am.”

It was at this point that Anders realised what was going to happen next, and although he had no love for the madman who’d just pointed a knife at his throat, he had no particular desire to see his jugular ripped out by tall dark and terrifying either.

“Wait!” he came to his senses just in time to shout out. They turned to look at him as he scrambled to his feet, and sure enough, he caught a glimpse of demonic eyes before they flicked back to something more human. “Just wait a sec,” squashing his cowardly thoughts before they had time to fully form, Anders elbowed the man out of his way, determinedly not looking at his face. “Let me try first. If this doesn’t work, you can go all Twilight on this dick,” he nodded to the man with the ponytail, knife still raised.

“The fuck are you doing?” the dark man frowned at him, apparently more in exasperation than anything else. “And what do you mean, ‘Twilight?’”

“You have _fangs._ I may be jumping to conclusions, but I can take a pretty good guess at what you are.” Thinking he may as well go for broke, Anders turned to face the man from his nightmares, giving him his best smirk. “I got to see your trick, now you get to see mine.” He turned back to the man with the knife. “You, listen to me,” he focused his eyes and his thoughts solely on him, feeling the rich purr of Bragi’s voice pour forth from his own lips, “I want you to forget all about this encounter tonight. It’s for the best, don’t you think? As far as you’re concerned, you spent the evening at home with your cat.”

“I –“ the stranger hesitated, trying to fight back against his words, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Then get one,” Anders continued, impatient, “everyone should have a cat. And you should forget all you know about us, and people like us. All this supernatural rubbish. It’s a bit silly, really, isn’t it? Childish, to believe in such things. As far as you’re concerned, Gods and monsters don’t exist, am I right?

“Yes,” the man nodded vaguely, “yes, of course.”

“Good,” Anders nodded, the honeyed tones of Bragi still working their magic, “then I think we’re done here. Leave now, and commit your life to something far more worthwhile than this bullshit. Follow a Simon and Garfunkel tribute act on tour or whatever, I really don’t care. Just put all this nonsense out of your mind, and leave.”

The man didn’t reply this time, but simply turned and began to walk, not in any particular hurry, just steadily walking away from his old life and the demons that haunted it.   
It was only once the crazed man had dissolved back into the darkness that the two men bothered to look at each other properly. The man who had haunted Ander’s sleepless nights turned to him with a crooked grin, looking frustratingly human after so many nights of Anders’ subconscious making him a monster. 

“Hello again, angel.”

Anders snorted and rolled his eyes at the endearment, and hoped he at least looked outwardly calm, though he could feel his heart beating a mile a minute. 

“Good evening,” he nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets to hide their slight shaking, “That’s the second time you’ve jumped between me and a raving psycho. What’s up with that?”

“I can hear your heart beating,” the man whose name Anders still couldn’t remember slowly approached him, “I could hear it that night too, in Bristol, when that idiot had you backed up against the wall. You were an inch from death, and I could hear it in the pumping of your blood.”

“Oh wow. Thanks for completely ignoring my actually quite reasonable question and coming out with some random creepy shit instead.” Anders straightened the cuff of his jacket, attempting to look at ease, “very helpful.”

“Tell me,” the damnable man continued, “is your heart beating faster because of your frequent brushes with death, or is it beating faster just for me?”

“It seems every time I have a ‘frequent brush with death,’ you happen to be waiting in the wings.”

“To save your sorry arse, yes,” he laughed. “I think I’ve found my calling.”

“Hmm,” Anders made a show of thinking his question over, “I would have to say it’s because of the death thing. No offense, but I don’t go for guys at the best of times, never mind ones who are totally up for ripping out people’s jugulars with their teeth. The fuck are you anyway? Like I said, I can take a pretty good guess, but I’d like confirmation.” 

“I could ask you the same thing,” the stranger’s smile hadn’t faltered in the slightest, “except that I already have, Anders Johnson, and you never gave me an answer.”

“Are you stalking me?” Anders asked, only half joking, “because that is not cool.”

“That was pretty impressive, what you just did.” He nodded in the direction the man with the knife had walked. “You wanna tell me how, or...?” Nicely avoided, creepy stranger, answering a question with another question.

“I wouldn’t tell the psycho who bashed my head against a brick wall, what makes you think I’ll tell you?” Right back at you. Points to Anders.

“Ah, but you were frightened and confused, your poor heart beating like a baby rabbit’s cornered by a fox.”

“Hey, I resent that remark. I’m the fox, not the rabbit.”

“Didn’t look like it from where I was standing.”

Nothing more was said for a few moments as they stared each other down, neither willing to reveal their secret wholly to the unknown danger standing in front of him. Anders was horribly aware of how rapidly his heart was thumping, now he knew the stranger could somehow hear it. The last time he had encountered this man, his powers had been all but useless, and in truth, he wasn’t willing to make a fool of himself by trying it again.

“Listen darlin’,” the stranger broke the silence first, and the way he spoke the endearment was far from friendly, “don’t think I followed your trail half way around the world just for you to –“

“Anders!”

Both of them turned sharply to look in the direction of the shout. Anders recognised the unmistakeable shape of his grandfather as he ran towards them, drawing to a halt under the dim light of the street lamps. 

“Anders,” he panted, trying to catch his breath, “Anders, this guy could be really fucking dangerous. No offense,” he patted the stranger’s arm absently.

“I – none taken.”

“Grandpa,” Anders said, ignoring the confusion on the other man’s face at the use of a title far too old to be accurate, “could you cut the crap and tell us exactly what is going on here. If we can trust this guy, that is,” he jerked a thumb at the stranger.

“Hey! I just –“

“Yes, yes,” Olaf straightened up. “All in good time. To the bar.”

Anders perked up at that; he was in dire need of a drink or two. “Right you are,” he dropped a deep, mocking bow in the stranger’s direction, “after you, sir.” Now Olaf was here and he no longer had to deal with the haunting man alone (and he could finally be certain he wasn’t only a figment of his imagination) he was feeling somewhat bolder. 

“...Right,” the man began to follow Olaf down the road in the direction of Mike’s bar. “Have – have we met before?” he asked the oracle.

“Yes,” Olaf’s answer was surprisingly concise and to the point, for him.

“OK. Where? I’ve only been here– Oh God, you’re that weirdo who was sniffing me in the supermarket aren’t you?”

“That’s right,” Olaf said with a smile as he offered his hand to the stranger, “nice to see you again.”

Anders stared at his grandfather in exasperation. _“Jesus,_ Olaf.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Mike!” Olaf bellowed as he swung open the ever-unlocked bar door. Anders and the stranger followed, shooting each other poorly concealed glances in equal parts curiosity and distrust. Or at least that was Anders hoped it was, rather than rage – he didn’t much fancy any further violence that evening, thank you. 

“What the ever-loving fuck is it, Grandpa?” Mike stomped down the stairs, wearing a half-unbuttoned shirt and a scowl. Perhaps Anders’ wish for no further violence was destined not to come true. “And help yourself why don’t you?” he added with an eye-roll as Olaf finished filling glasses with whiskey.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Nothing,” Mike resigned himself to his fate and took a seat on a barstool. “Just – tell me what this is all about so I can get back to bed.” He glanced up, only just noticing the unfamiliar man eyeing Anders with doubt. “And who is this?”

“The answers to both of your questions, my grandson, are one and the same.”

“Jesus Olaf,” Mike muttered, and turned to Anders as though he may be able to provide a more satisfactory answer. “Anders, what the fuck is he talking about?”

Anders came back to himself, and stopped frowning at the man next to him in order to look at his older brother. “I actually have no idea.” He had his suspicions, but thought it might be for the best if he kept them to himself for now.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Mike knocked back his drink, “Olaf, if you can’t – “

“He’s a vampire.” A moment of silence followed Olaf’s words as he continued to swirl the whiskey around his glass.

“I knew it,” Anders yelled and practically punched the air in triumph, before he noticed the others were staring at him. He shrugged it off like a pro, and reached for an unattended vodka bottle. “Well, I did. Ask Twilight here.”

The man scowled at him and clenched his fists, visibly reigning himself back. What? It was hardly Anders’ fault he had that effect on people.

Unsurprisingly, Mike ignored them both. “Olaf, are you serious?”

As expected, Olaf in turn ignored him. “What’s your name, vampire?”

“Mitchell,” the man spat.

Mike narrowed his eyes. “How do we know that for sure?”

“He’s telling the truth,” After hearing it again, Anders cursed himself for forgetting the man’s name in the first place. _Mitchell._ He was, however, unprepared for the looks of surprise Mike and Olaf sent his way. “What? We’ve met already.”

“What?” Mike was looking at Anders as though he’d just expressed the sudden desire to become a monk. “Where?”

“Your ‘over-protective older brother’ is showing, Mike, you’d better watch that. And it was in England, when you ‘banished’ me from the family, you prick.”

“Jesus, it’s like an episode of Eastenders in here,” Mitchell muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I –“ Mike looked like he was seriously considering just going back to bed. “Let’s back up. Olaf, what makes you think he’s a vampire?”

“He smells like one,” said Olaf as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Explain,” Mike said wearily, as Anders tried to subtly sniff at the man standing next to him.

“For those of us with highly trained noses, “Olaf began, “it’s not too hard to figure out. Also helps if you’ve been around as long as I have.” Anders could have sworn he saw Mitchell flinch at that, and filed the knowledge away for later use.

He took his chance and leaned forward to sniff at the apparent vampire’s neck, a move that earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs. “Doesn’t smell like anything unusual to me. All I’m getting is cigarettes and leather jacket.”

“ _Trained_ noses, Anders. To me he smells... sort of like Ty, actually. Cold. Cold metal and stone.” He was met with a show of raised eyebrows. “What? That’s what vampires smell like, I don’t make the rules.” 

“Can we just –“ Mike was starting to look dangerously annoyed, Anders thought. The vain standing out in his neck was worrying. “You two have met before? Let’s start with that.” 

“Yes,” Anders began before Mitchell could give his version of events, in which he would probably appear less than heroic, “when you essentially told me to stay the fuck away from my family for a while –“

“We’ve been over this Anders, it was for the good of –“

“Yes, yes, I know. Anyway, some creepy bastards were following me – I’m assuming they were vampires too?” He looked to Mitchell for confirmation.

He nodded sharply. “That’s right.”

“Of course they were. So, I get cornered by these freaks, demanding to know ‘what I am.’ Like Mitchell here, I presume they thought I smelt different, and they were keen to know whether I was a threat. Very keen. Naturally, I was a little confused – “

“Try shit scared,” Mitchell snorted.

“Pipe down Dracula, I’m telling the story. I didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about, so couldn’t give them the answer they were looking for. Things were about to get particularly unpleasant, when this guy,” he nodded to Mitchell, “and his buddies showed up and scared them off. Then you did that eye thing – which freaked the fuck out of me, by the way.”

“What eye thing?” Mike asked.

“Go on, show them, it’s fucking weird.”

“Is it really necessary?” Mitchell looked like he’d really rather be doing something else.

“Yes.”

“Ugh, fine. But... just don’t freak out,” he said to Mike and Olaf, before blinking his eyes to the glossy black that had haunted Anders dreams, his fangs visible as he curled his lip back in a snarl. For one dreadful moment, Anders was back in that dark alleyway, and fear gripped him by the throat. But in the next instant, Mitchell’s eyes flicked back to a dull brown, with something like guilt showing on his face. “Sorry,” he spoke softly, so quietly Anders almost didn’t hear.

“Well, that was certainly an eye-opener,” Olaf said, then winced, “sorry, unfortunate word choice.”

“Yes, thank you Olaf,” Mike turned back to Mitchell. “So why are you here now, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“As far as I’m concerned, Mr Anders Johnson here could be anything. And I mean anything; I don’t think there’s a lot that could surprise me, anymore. He was like nothing I’ve ever smelt before, he could easily have been dangerous, especially after the others were showing so much interest in him.” He turned to look at Anders again, frowning slightly. “So I followed your trail back here, to find out what you are.”

“So, you _are_ stalking me?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Mitchell looked like he wanted to punch him. The expression was starting to get very familiar; Anders would have doubted the man was capable of making any other face, if he hadn’t seen the evidence first hand.

“Because I... _smell_ different?”

“You all do. They way your blood smells to me... it’s clearly not human. So to me, you’re a group of unknown supernatural beings, whose abilities and origin I’m unsure of. Can you understand how I might see that as a threat? And I don’t want any more harm to come to those I call my family.”

“Yes,” said Mike, ever sensible, “if I were in your position, I think I would feel the same.”

“So self-righteous,” Anders muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“So,” Mitchell folded his arms, patience clearly wearing thin, “are you going to tell me what the fuck you are now?”

Anders said nothing, but looked to Olaf and Mike for help. Not that that did any good; they looked just as undecided as he felt. 

“Well,” Olaf began, “he’s not a mortal...”

“But would he believe us if we told him?” Anders asked, pouring himself another drink and ignoring Mike’s glare. 

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Mitchell hissed at him, then spoke to them all, “and you’re forgetting the part where I’m an immortal monster of the night,” he said with a self-deprecating sneer, “I think I can handle whatever poxy little secret you lot are hiding.”

Now that was definitely not on. “We’re Gods,” said Anders loudly before the others could speak up.

“Fuckssake Anders.” He could practically hear Mike faceplam.

Mitchell clearly did not believe him, “You’re _what?”_

“You heard.”

“I’m not so sure I did.”

“We are human vessels for the souls of Norse Gods,” Olaf spoke up in his serious oracle business voice. “This is the case for our entire family, and many others besides.”

“Alright,” said Mitchell, with a defiant tilt of his chin, “prove it.”

“Don’t look at me,” Anders raised his hands in defence, “My powers don’t work on him, just like they don’t work on any of you. Which is totally unfair, by the way. What is that?”

“Mike,” Olaf gestured to his grandson, “if you’d be so kind.”

“Of course,” Mike hopped off the barstool with a grin, and held out his hand to Mitchell. “This really freaked out Anders the first time I showed him. You know paper scissors rock?”

Mitchell looked uncertain. “Sure... but what does that have to do with anything?”

“Just play.”

“...Right.” 

Anders watched with amusement as Mike proceeded to beat Mitchell in game after game, until the vampire was forced to admit defeat. “OK! Fine. So, you always win. What does that prove?”

“I am Ullr,” Mike said, “God of games. And I never lose.”

Mitchell still looked a bit unsure, but Anders could hardly fault him for that. “Right. And you?” he nodded to Olaf.

“Baldr,” said Olaf, “Oracle, and God of rebirth, among other things. I’m ninety two years old.”

“I win,” Mitchell said with a bitter smile.

“What?”

“I’m into three figures.”

Ah. That explained the strange reaction to Olaf’s surprising number of years. “You look bloody good for your age, old man,” said Anders loudly, and raised his glass to him.

Mitchell turned to him quickly, as though he’d forgotten he was there. “And then there’s you. Am I really about to discover the truth behind the mystery that is Anders Johnson?” he said dryly.

“Yes you are, you lucky boy. Although you’ll probably have to take my word for it. If it didn’t work on your freaky friends from the alleyway, it won’t work on you.”

“Try me.”

“Alright,” said Anders somewhat reluctantly; he was hardly keen to look an idiot again. However, he was also not one to miss out on an opportunity for a laugh, and since he knew it wasn’t going to work, he may as well have fun with it. He called up Bragi, feeling the ability of the God spreading warm and heavy through his body, coating his words in honey. “Listen to me Mitchell,” he practically purred, eyes locked with his, “I need you to do something for me. Something so incredibly important, more important than anything you’ve ever done before.” He could see Mitchell watching his lips as he spoke. “I need you to come over here, and I need you to kiss me. Alright?”   
He bit his lip, already fighting back laughter at the absurdity of what he’d just asked. His amusement was cut short however, when Mitchell took a few shaky steps to close the short distance between them, lifting one of his hands as though to touch Anders’ face. Anders was just about to step away when Mitchell stopped abruptly, deep frown on his face and shaking his head vigorously as if to dislodge something.

“What the fuck...?” he came back to himself and hurriedly lowered his arm.

“Holy shit,” Anders was grinning again, the rush of power he’d felt perking him up, “you were actually going to do it weren’t you?” So he wasn’t useless against him after all. But of course Olaf had to barge right in and ruin it for him.

“Past tense being key here,” Olaf gestured vaguely to Mitchell, “he _was_ going to do as you asked, but he shook it off before he carried out your command in full. He is not a God, so your words have some power over him. But he is also not a mortal, so your words can never have their full intended effect. Long story short, you lose, Anders.”

“Dammit,” Now Anders thought about it, a similar thing had happened with the weirdoes in the alleyway in Bristol – the vampires, he mentally corrected. His words had merely disorientated and delayed them for a moment, before losing their hold on them altogether. Hmm. He couldn’t decide if that was better than nothing, or even more of a slap in the face than being totally powerless.

“What did you do?” Mitchell asked, looking at his own hand like it had betrayed him. “I was over there... and you said something. I couldn’t hear you properly, it was all mumbly and shit, but...” he looked back to Anders, deep frown across his forehead, “I was going to kiss you. I – I had to.”

“I can use words to bend mortals to my will,” said Anders, well aware his smile was slightly too bright, “And as I’m sure you know, you’re not a mortal. So no Bragi powers for you.”

“Bragi?”

“God of poetry,” he said with a bow.

“You’re shitting me,” said Mitchell with a half-smile.

“No!” Anders feigned hurt, “why do people always find that so hard to deal with, honestly.”

“Because you’re a little shit is why,” Mike started to make his way back up the stairs, “we’ll talk more about this tomorrow.” He nodded to Mitchell, “you should lay low for a while, until we decide if _you_ are a threat to _us_ or not. If I’m totally honest, I’m not happy about you being here, when we can’t be sure how much of a danger you are. But you’re here now whether I like it or not, and I’d rather keep an eye on you. Anders, he’s your responsibility.”

“What?” Anders was far from pleased about that, he was still having trouble sleeping because of his first encounter with Mitchell, he hardly wanted to spend any more quality time with him. “What do you expect me to do, ask him to move in? He’s not my bloody girlfriend, I can’t just –“

“Shut up, Anders,” Mike groaned. “Just sort it, alright. I’m still not happy about you coming back so soon after Axl turned 21 either. The last thing any of us need right now is you being a prick. No, actually, the last thing we need is you being a prick _and_ somehow managing to drag a vampire into our lives. Goodnight.” A door slammed upstairs, signalling Mike was pissed off and it was time for the others to leave.

“Beautiful,” Anders sighed and rubbed his temples, “just beautiful. Well,” he turned to Mitchell, who didn’t look entirely satisfied with the situation either, “come on. Looks like you’re bunking with me until we sort this shit out. Not that I’m happy about it mind you.”

“And you think I am? What makes you think I’ll do what you say like some poor intimidated little child?”

“I’m really fucking tired, OK.” And half-pissed, but he didn’t think mentioning that would help at all. “Just humour me for now, and we’ll deal with it tomorrow. And my unstable family will fuck your shit up if you cause us any trouble.”

“Fine,” Mitchell muttered, looking mutinous as he strode out of the bar and into the night.

Anders placed the half empty vodka bottle on the bar and made to follow him. “’Night Grandpa,” he threw a wave in Olaf’s direction as he left.

“Hey Anders?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you still staying at Ty’s place?”

“...Fuck.” 

~*~

“So, you’re staying with your brother?” Mitchell asked as they turned up the street towards Ty’s place. “How come?”

“I’ve got the builders in,” Anders pulled his jacket closer about himself, “I was planning on being away from home longer, but _something_ ,” he shot a pointed look in Mitchell’s direction, “made me want to cut my break short.”

Mitchell suddenly looked a lot more pleased, “I scared you back here?”

“I didn’t say that,” Anders snapped as he pulled Ty’s spare key from his pocket.

“It’s what you meant,” the vampire replied with a smirk, looking at the open door. “Are you going to ask me in nicely?”

“Just shut up and get inside,” he pushed the insufferable man in front of him and into the living room. “This way,” he whispered so he didn’t wake Ty. He really did not want to explain to his brother why there was a vampire staying under his roof at whatever ridiculous time in the morning it was. He ushered Mitchell into the spare room he was currently staying in. “You sleep in here. I’ll take the couch. At least that way Ty won’t wander in tomorrow and flip out when he sees some strange man in his house.”

“What makes you think I’ll be here in the morning?”

“I told you, we’re Gods you idiot. Ever heard of Odin?”

“Yes, so what?”

“That would be my little brother. So unless you want a bunch of angry Gods after you, I suggest you stay put,” he flashed Mitchell a sharp smile. Alright, so he may have been stretching the truth a little; they had very little idea of how strong Axl’s powers were yet, and the rest of them weren’t very powerful at the best of times. But Mitchell didn’t need to know that.

“Fine,” Mitchell sighed and shrugged off his jacket. “Is it cold in here?”

“Probably, yes. Goodnight, Twilight.” Anders pulled the bedroom door shut slowly behind him without looking back, and grabbed a blanket off the back of a chair.  
He was expecting another terrible night’s sleep, after all the shit he’d had to deal with that day. Instead, he had the best night’s sleep he’d had since getting home. For some reason, the knowledge that the vampire was sleeping in the next room banished him from Anders’ dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: the most awkward dinner date ever.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a lot longer to get done than I wanted it to - I was at work more than usual this week, and I just wasn't happy with it for a while. But it also a little longer than usual, so it's not all bad.  
> This is turning out to be a much slower build than I planned...

When Ty woke for work that morning, he didn’t feel quite right. Not ill – physically he felt fine, it was just... _something._ And with his family, that was never a good sign. Deciding that breakfast was hopefully the cure for this unexpected sense of wrongness, he dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen. His peculiar feeling was more or less explained by what he saw in the next room – his brother and a man he’d never seen before fighting over a box of cereal like seven-year olds. 

“You just said you don’t like this brand!” The voice belonging to the stranger was lilting and unfamiliar, and definitely not one that belonged to a New Zealander. 

“I don’t.” Anders however, sounded just the same as he always did in the morning – petulant and determined to make everyone else just as miserable to be awake as he was.

“Then why do you even want it?”

“Well maybe I just feel like it today.”

“What? That makes no sense you utter bastard –“

Ty cleared his throat as he stepped closer. The two immediately stopped their bickering, each still grasping a corner of the battered cereal box. The stranger let go guiltily and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Umm... hello?” He stood awkwardly and held out his hand. “I’m Mitchell. A... friend of Anders’. I’m guessing you’re his brother.”

“I...” Ty wasn’t really sure what to say, so settled for taking the hand offered to him, “Ty. It’s a pleasure.” The moment their hands touched, Ty felt a great deal more at ease. He felt strangely comfortable in the newcomer’s presence, an unexpected sense of familiarity creeping over him as he looked Mitchell in the eye. “Have we met before?”

“No,” some of the tension seemed to drop out of Mitchell’s posture too, and a small smile opened up his face in a friendly gesture, “no. I haven’t known Anders too long myself.”

“Right. I guess not then.” Ty arranged his own face into a smile and let go of his hand. “In that case, it’s great to meet you. And I don’t want to be rude, but why are the two of you fighting over Sugar Hoops at 7.30 in the morning in my kitchen?”

“Oh, that.” Anders, having won the squabble over said cereal, proudly poured himself a large bowlful, though Ty knew full well his brother hated that brand. When they were kids, he’d spent many mornings listening to Anders bemoan the very existence of it. “I ran into Mitchell last night, and he needed a place to crash at short notice,” he shrugged. “That’s OK with you, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, still not sure about the strange sense of comfort he felt around the man he’d only just met. It wasn’t like he was attracted to him or anything... speaking of which – “You remember I’m having Dawn over for dinner later, right?”

“What?” Anders replied absently, obviously only half listening as he flipped through an old newspaper as Mitchell continued to glare at him. 

“I told you yesterday,” Ty began, not really expecting Anders to have remembered their conversation, but still, it would have been nice, “I’ve wanted to cook for Dawn for ages, and I promised her it would be today. And I’m not putting it off _again_ just because you’re here.”

“Alright, point taken,” Anders grimaced as he actually deigned to take a mouthful of the cheap cereal. “We will be out of your hair.”

“Promise?” Ty knew his brother too well to take his word for it. 

“Yes, I promise,” Anders rolled his eyes, “I wouldn’t want to destroy any chance of you finally getting into Dawn’s – what I’m sure are very lovely, if boring – panties. Fuck knows we’ve all waited long enough for you to man up and get on with it.” 

“Good. Thanks.” He offered them both a tight smile, “I’m going to go get ready for work.” They both ignored him; Mitchell in favour of scowling at Anders, and Anders busy pretending not to notice. 

By the time Ty was showered and dressed, Mitchell had disappeared somewhere, leaving only Anders in the kitchen, tentatively sipping a cup of coffee. 

“Don’t you have proper coffee, you peasant?” his brother asked, eyeing up the contents of the mug as though they might do him physical harm. “I don’t know how you can drink this crap.”

“If you hate it so much, then don’t drink it, your highness,” he sighed. He hesitated a moment, before voicing what he thought must be the only explanation for how out of sorts he was feeling that morning. “Your friend. Mitchell.”

“Yes... what about him?” Anders raised an eyebrow. “And he’s still in the next room, by the way, before you say anything rude.”

“Is he – like us?”

“In some ways, yes,” said Anders with an infuriating smile.

“In some ways? What the fuck it that supposed to mean Anders? Is he a God or isn’t he?”

“What makes you think he might be?”

“I don’t know, I – “ Ty hurriedly tried to think of the best way to phrase how he felt, although Anders would probably still take the piss however he put the strange sensation into words. “I feel like we’ve met before. Like we know each other really well, or like we could do. I feel... sort of, comfortable, in his presence? I don’t know,” he shook his head, frustrated, “it’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t want to shag him do you?” Anders asked with narrowed eyes.

“Jesus, Anders, of course not.” Ty grabbed his van keys from the counter. “I should have known better than to ask you for actual advice.”

“Yes, you should.”

“Whatever, just...” All thoughts of Mitchell vanished as Ty scrubbed a hand absently through his own hair, “you sure you won’t be here later? When Dawn’s here?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now fuck off to work, the neglected fridges of this city won’t save themselves.”

“Right. Bye.” As Ty left the building, he had the unmistakable feeling that something was still out of place. But there was nothing he could do for now, and as Anders said, he had fridges to attend to.

~*~

“Why are you still here?” Anders looked up as Mitchell came back into the living room. “I thought the plan was to leave me locked up here for the day while you were at work.”

“I called in sick,” Anders said, stretching from where he was perched on the barstool and feeling his joints pop in protest. “Dawn can deal without me for today.” If she didn’t know how to deal with Anders’ sudden unexpected absences by now, then she deserved the panic it would put her in. Besides, she’d be fine; she was brilliant, after all.

“Right. So what _are_ you going to do then?” Mitchell raised a dark eyebrow in question, “sit around and watch me all day? Make sure I don’t get into trouble?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “Well that, and I think there’s a few questions we both need answering, don’t you?”

Mitchell snorted and scratched absently at the stubble on his chin, “What business is it of yours?”

“So,” Anders ignored him and carried on, “You’re a vampire.”

“We’ve established that, yes.”

“So, you drink people’s blood, right?” It was a question Anders had understandably been dreading asking, but he had to know for certain, especially after all he’d witnessed already.

“Yes,” said Mitchell quietly, and with obvious discomfort, “but I’m lapsed, so to speak.”

“You mean you’re off the red stuff?”

Mitchell cringed at his flippant summary of his situation, “Currently, yes. Some days are easier than others.”

“That must be hard,” said Anders without much feeling, hopping off the barstool and flopping onto the sofa instead, hitching up his sweatpants from where they were slipping off his hip.

“It is,” Mitchell ground out, looking very much like he wanted to punch Anders in the face.

“Do you want to eat me?” Anders asked, with just a hint of innuendo. It was out of habit you understand, he would never _actually_ hit on the vampire. Of course not. Firstly he was a guy, secondly he was a member of a race of undead beings. Neither were things Anders found particularly alluring.

The tone of his voice was not lost on Mitchell however, who gave an incredulous bark of laughter at the insinuation. “No,” he said with a shrug, though his smile faltered a little with his next words. “The urge to – to feed from you is a lot weaker, for sure. But it’s still there, if barely. Don’t worry, you’re safe,” he added with a wry grin when he saw the wary look Anders gave him without meaning to. “I live with...” he hesitated, and Anders could see him planning his next words carefully, “ _others_ of a similar nature – not vampires that is, but not human either – and I have no desire to feed from them.”

“Fair enough,” Anders pursed his lips, filing away the mention of these ‘others’ for later investigation. “You’re technically dead, right?”

“...Yes.”

“But you still have blood?”

“Yes, I do. My heart beats at a lower rate though, so blood doesn’t pump around my body anywhere near as quickly as yours does.”

“Oh really,” Anders smirked, “does that mean you have trouble getting a hard-on?” 

~*~

“Come right on through, Dawn, and I’ll get started on dinner. Can I get you a – Anders?”

Anders looked up from where he was still draped over the sofa, as he had been for a majority of the day. “Oh hey Ty. And good evening, Dawn,” he called in the direction of the door, where she was hanging her coat.

“Anders,” his assistant stepped around the corner to stand next to Ty, who was looking more furious by the second. “What are you doing here?” She asked hesitantly, “Ty said you were going out.” She looked to the man at her side for confirmation.

“Yes, Anders,” said Ty, dangerously quiet, “What _are_ you doing here? I told you I would have company this evening.”

“Yes, I know, and I’m truly sorry about that. But I thought, since Mitchell’s still here, it might be nice for us all to sit down together, and have a nice meal.” His voice turned thick and sensual, and he locked eyes with Dawn. “Don’t you think so Dawn?”

“Yes,” she said slowly, firmly, “I’d love to meet your friend.” She blinked and shook her head with a hazy smile. “Ty, is there somewhere I can go freshen up?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s just through there,” Anders noticed the fake smile Ty quickly pasted over his face as he nodded in the direction of the bathroom.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Ty hissed the moment Dawn was out of earshot. “I told you I needed you to not be here this evening you prick, and yet, here you are, fucking everything up. Again. And you know I hate it when you use Bragi on Dawn. It’s out of order.”

“Would you calm the fuck down please, you’re making it chilly in here.” Anders poured himself a glass of the questionable wine Ty had purchased for himself and Dawn. It would do, for lack of anything better to drink. “And as much as I like Dawn, I do not want to see her nipples through her dress. We all know how socially awkward you are, especially around Dawn, so I thought you could use the support. Also, Mitchell’s kinda in a bad place, I didn’t really want to force him out into society again just yet.” He didn’t want to let Mitchell out of his sight so soon, to be honest – he hated to admit that Mike was right, but they really didn’t know how much of a threat he was yet. And the vampire was intriguing, he couldn’t deny that. Besides, Anders could never turn down a chance to mess with Ty.

“He’s still here?” Ty said incredulously. “I’ve just met the guy, I don’t really want to sit down to dinner with him when I’m meant to be on a fucking date with Dawn!” he hissed. “It’s bad enough that _you’re_ here. And you still haven’t told me what the deal is with him yet, I don’t even know if he’s dangerous. How can you expect me to be alright with this Anders? Enough is enough.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll tell you when the time is right. For now, just sit down and have a nice meal with the woman you’ve been pining over for months and this brooding Irishman that you hardly know, and we’ll all have a magical evening, OK? I’m sure you can manage it; we’re Gods little bro, remember?” He grinned at Ty like when they were children and he was trying to talk him around to some ridiculous joke. 

“I cannot believe you,” Ty groaned.

“And watch what you say as well. One slip of the tongue, and poor Dawn is exposed to all kinds of supernatural nasties.”

“We’ve managed it for the last couple of years, why should it be a problem now?” Ty grumbled, but pulled more wine glasses out of the cupboard anyway. “But it would be much less of a possibility if you and your boyfriend just buggered off!”

Not cool Ty, not cool. “Don’t be stupid.”

“Why are you still here anyway?” Ty frowned at him as he filled the glasses. “Surely you have something better to do.”

“And miss you and Dawn fumbling your way through all the social awkwardness of your first real date? No way.” The wide grin that split his face was half real, and half put on for Ty’s benefit.

“It’s hardly a real date with you and your ‘friend’ lurking around, is it?” Ty muttered under his breath.

Mitchell chose that moment to wander back in from Anders’ temporary bedroom. Anders tutted – he had offered Mitchell some of Ty’s clothes to wear for the evening (his own would have been too small, something that pissed him off more than it should have) in place of the vampire’s own, as they weren’t looking their best after a few days of wear. But Mitchell had ignored him, of course he had, and was still wearing his own slightly wrinkled shirt and jeans, though he had foregone the leather jacket. 

“Well don’t you look nice,” said Anders’ sarcastically.

“Well sorry,” Mitchell snarled, “if I don’t quite match up to your –“ he stopped abruptly as Dawn came back from the bathroom, heels clicking on the floor.

“Hello,” she said a little awkwardly, but wearing her best smile. Anders had hired her for that smile. “I’m Dawn,” she said holding out her hand to him.

“Dawn!” Mitchell said, with a smile almost as winning as hers, as they shook hands. Damn. “Of course. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Mitchell, a... friend of Anders’.”

“Nice to meet you.” She had obviously noticed his hesitation over the word ‘friend,’ considering what she said next. “It’s very rare to actually _meet_ a friend of Anders’. I’m usually just the one who sends them flowers the next morning.”

Anders cut in with an over-loud laugh, “Ahaa, not that kind of friend, Dawn. Would you like a drink, while Ty gets started on dinner?” He ignored the glare Ty sent his way as he grabbed the wine glasses and ushered Dawn and Mitchell over to the living area.

Twenty minutes later, and Ty had knocked up a quick Chinese dish, presumably because he feared to leave Dawn alone too long in the company of Anders and his pet vampire. Not that he knew exactly what Mitchell was yet; and Anders intended to keep it that way as long as he could. He wasn’t sure why – Olaf and Mike already knew, so it was hardly a secret. Call it whimsy. 

“Food’s up guys,” came Ty’s shout from the dining table, and Dawn practically scrambled up and over to him, and out of Anders’ presence. Rude.

The four of them took their seats around the table, Dawn gushing over how nice the food looked as she took her seat next to Ty. Only polite, Anders supposed, though she did sound sincere. Surprisingly, it did look quite decent. He had made it a rule to never eat anything his family had cooked ever again, after years of toast and takeaway with Mike when their parents had shot through, and one very questionable summer spent with Olaf and his cooking. But rules were for breaking, and it actually _was_ quite palatable.

Not that he’d ever tell Ty. Besides, Dawn had that base covered.

“This is delicious, Ty,” she said, swallowing. “I had no idea you were so good with a pan.”

“You should try his cupcakes,” Anders said before Ty could answer, “they’re to die for.”

“You do cupcakes? Right that’s it. I’m not letting you go now.”

Anders was starting to think crashing their date hadn’t been the best of ideas – he wasn’t sure how much longer he could endure the happy little smiles they kept giving each other. He was about to tell them as such, when Mitchell spoke up.

“So, how did you two actually meet?” He smiled almost as sickeningly as the other two were, and helped himself to another scoop of rice. “Anders has been painfully low on the details.”

What the _fuck?_ Anders was tempted to kick him under the table to shut him up.

“We met through Anders, actually,” Dawn set down her fork. “I work for him – didn’t he tell you that?”

Mitchell hesitated for a fraction of a second, “I – yes, of course. I just wondered if you knew each other before then.”

“No. I came to meet Anders for lunch at his office one day, and there she was,” Ty said with that stupid soppy smile again. Honestly. “Dawn.”

“I’m going to stop you right there before I vomit that lovely meal you made right back up again,” Anders cut in. Damn, he wasn’t meant to tell Ty it was good.

“What is your problem?” Mitchell turned to him, eyes narrowed. 

“...What?” Nice comeback Anders, Jesus.

“You clearly have a problem with Dawn and your brother. And I don’t think it’s anything to do with their relationships to you. I think you,” and he actually poked Anders on the nose, of all things, “have a problem with love, Anders Johnson.”

Now that was not on. “I have absolutely no problem with love. It’s a wonderful thing when a man and a woman can come together, in more ways than one, and show each other just how much they mean to them in various different positions –“

“That’s lust, you idiot,” Mitchell said indignantly.

Anders took a sip of wine before he answered, feeling the eyes of the other three on him. They could wait. “It’s all the same, in the end.”

Mitchell snorted, loudly, and that was actually kind of gross. “Love lasts. It endures. Even death can’t kill love. Lust is over in the blink of an eye.”

“That was very deep, Mitchell. Are you drunk?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Shall I get us some dessert?” Ty stood up abruptly, effectively preventing the scathing reply Anders had ready from leaving his lips. 

~*~

“From the sound of it, you just use chew up women and spit them out,” Mitchell said in reply to another of Anders’ ‘amusing’ anecdotes. There was a certain amount of venom in his voice, Ty noticed. Had Anders touched a nerve...? Again. The two of them had been subtly sniping at each other all evening, and frankly, it was getting boring.

“Surely, for you, that is literally the case,” What the hell did Anders mean by that? Ty opened his mouth to cut in and stop them before they kicked up a proper fight, but fortunately Dawn saved him the trouble. 

“Right. Well on that note, I think I’d better head home,” Dawn said, giving the two men sitting opposite her a tight smile. “There’s only so much of Anders’ love life I can bear to relive.”

“Are you sure?” Ty asked, “It’s not late.” Fuck. This was not how he’d planned on ending the evening. He’d planned for a lengthy period twined together on the sofa, at least. _Fuckssake Anders._

“No, no really,” she stood. “It was lovely to meet you Mitchell.” She looked to her boss, and the irritated edge crept back into her voice, “See you tomorrow, Anders.”

“Bright and early,” he smiled lazily back at her. Ty barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll show you out,” he stood and led Dawn to the door, out of earshot of Anders and Mitchell and their bickering.

“Thank you for having me over Ty,” she said with a small smile. “It was lovely to finally spend time with you, even if Anders...”

“Ruined it?” Finished Ty with a sad smile. 

She laughed softly, “I wouldn’t say ruined. Just... different to what I expected. If we manage our next date without your brother gate-crashing and generally being an arse, I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”

“Next date? Does that mean you’d actually like to go out again, after this travesty?”

“Yes of course I would, we’ve waited long enough. Give me a call when you’re free.” Her smile turned conspiratorial, “and give Anders a smack upside the head for me.”

“Of course.” God, she was fantastic.

Dawn had a look on her face like there was something she wanted to say, but wasn’t sure if she should say it. It was a look Ty had seen on her face a lot when Anders was being difficult. “Do you think they know?” she said quietly, with a glance back towards the other room, “do you think they know that they fancy each other? They’ve been flirting outrageously for the past two and a half hours.”

Ty sniggered, delighted that Dawn had noticed as well and he hadn’t been imagining the strange back-and-forth between the two of them. “I can’t speak for Mitchell, but it’s a pretty safe bet Anders has absolutely no idea. Even if he did, he wouldn’t acknowledge it out loud, you know what he’s like.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “yes, I know what he’s like. But I didn’t know he – you know – went that way. From the way he is with women, you’d think he’d be the last person to fall for a guy.”

“Mmm, I don’t think he knows it yet either.”

“Well, have fun with that. Sounds like a train wreck waiting to happen.” She hesitated for a moment, before leaning forward and pressing her lips to Ty’s, just for a second, before drawing back again. “Goodnight, Ty.”

It was over far too quickly, the flash of emotion twisted in with his powers, causing a rush of exhilaration and want, his whole body flashing a burning cold for the briefest of moments. He could only pray Dawn hadn’t noticed. The moment passed, and he was unable to stop the grin splitting his face as he opened the door for her. “Goodnight Dawn.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I should have posted this days ago, but I kept getting distracted. As you know, the last TAJ aired the other day and I was drowning in feels for a while there. Also, this chapter was really long and had too much going on, so I decided to split it into two *shrug* Hopefully it's better for it. That also means the next chapter shouldn't be too far off, cos I've already got most of it done :)

A week or two later, and Mitchell was still living with Anders and his brother. As to why this was the case, he wasn’t so sure. Of course there was the lingering threat of a bunch of angry Gods unleashing their wrath upon him if he did suddenly run off into the night, but to be honest, he wasn’t sure how much of Anders’ stories of vengeful deities he really believed.   
In the end, he concluded that this indecision was the reason he was still there. He had followed Anders halfway across the world to find out what he was and if he posed a threat to him and to those he called family. So far, he had indeed discovered what Anders was, and at the moment it didn’t seem as though he or those like him were too bothered about the existence of other supernatural beings. But then, he had only met four of them. And from what he’d heard, there were a hell of a lot more lurking around New Zealand, and they didn’t even seem to be friendly among each other most of the time, never mind what they’d think about the existence of creatures such as himself. Nope, he’d give it a little while longer yet, before he deemed it safe to leave the Gods unwatched. Besides, he needed a fucking holiday, may as well stick around.

But there was something else, something that had been bothering him for the last few days. As surprising as it was, he found himself enjoying Anders’ company. To begin with, it was similar to what he felt for Annie and George – he subconsciously looked forward to Anders’ arrival home from work, tried to make him smile when he looked pissed off, and a number of other trivial things he would do without thinking about it. In other words, they were friends. This in itself was troubling to Mitchell, after such a short period of knowing him.   
Things got decidedly worse (or better, depending on how you looked at it, but Mitchell was definitely going with worse) that morning, when Anders was leaving for work. He was running late from the sound of his clattering and vigorous cursing before he eventually emerged from the bathroom, hair damp from his shower and curling in at the base of his neck. The top few buttons of his shirt were still undone, the tie he was to wear gripped loosely in one hand as he scrabbled around under the sofa cushions in search of his phone with the other. His throat was long and pale, a drip from his hair sliding down onto his chest and under his shirt. (Was it a cliché for Mitchell to find necks so alluring? He couldn’t remember if he found them so before he was turned, so was forever undecided if it was a vampire thing or not. He’d never cared to discuss it with another of his kind.) Anders was biting his lip in concentration as he dug under the cushions. Thankfully at this point Mitchell registered he was staring and looked away just in time, as Anders triumphantly held up his phone and strode towards the front door.

“See you later, Twilight,” he called, pulling on his suit jacket.

“Yeah, sure,” said Mitchell quietly, his eyes wandering lower, to the small of Anders’ back and lower still, taking in the way his grey trousers fitted him perfectly. He probably knew it as well, the smug bastard.   
The door swung shut and he was left alone, trying hard not to breathe in the cold morning air, where a trace of Ander’s expensive aftershave still lingered. He told himself firmly to stop being such a little girl, and went to fix himself toast with some disgustingly sugary spread on it. For the first time in a long while, he found himself actually missing Annie’s ever present cups of tea. He could have used one, right then. 

~*~

It suddenly hit Anders that morning, as he was busy ignoring the pile of paperwork on his desk, that Mitchell had been crashing with him and Ty for over a week. Hmm. He still wasn’t sure what to make of the vampire to be honest, as far as the potential danger factor went. He knew some of what Mitchell and his kind were capable of, from his less than enjoyable past experiences with them, but as much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew things could potentially get a lot worse. It was easy to forget the damage Mitchell could do, when Anders had seen him drinking tea and scratching underneath the waistband of his boxers first thing in the morning. 

Perhaps most disturbingly of all, he actually kind of liked Mitchell, not that he would ever say it out loud. Ty most have noticed too; he kept giving him annoying little smiles whenever he and Mitchell were around, the prick.   
There were very few people he could tolerate spending long periods of time with – there was Dawn of course, who despite his frequent absences from work still spent many hours a day in the same room as him without incident. He supposed out of all his brothers, he got on best with Ty, being the two middle brothers. They were capable of going out for drinks, dinner, or whatever. He’d even managed to live with him the past few weeks, without any serious disagreement. Axl – he and Axl were very different. It had only worsened since Axl had turned 21 and his God identity had been revealed. But they had still got on alright, admittedly they were usually drunk, and though he’d never admit it, Anders enjoyed playing big brother when the mood took him. Then there was Mike. Sure he loved Mike as the brother he was, but they clashed at the best of times, and found it hard to be in each other’s presence for long. And Olaf... well Olaf was perhaps the easiest person to get on with in the world, if you knew how to just go with it. And, perhaps quite sadly, that was it. His family and a colleague were the grand sum of people he was happy to spend time with. He’d never really noticed his lack of friends. The gap of company outside his family was filled by the string of pretty faces he’d brought home with him after nights out, and it was easy to forget any loneliness when there was a soft, pliant body stretched out alongside him in his bed, even if it was only ever for one night. 

He had talked Dawn into letting him leave an hour or so earlier than he was meant to, with the promise to be in extra early the next day to stop her bitching at him. When he opened the door to Ty’s, he found Mitchell simply standing by the window, looking out over the small portion of the city the view allowed. It was still a slight surprise to see him there; every day he half expected him to have shot through. Perhaps his bullshit about vengeful Gods had worked better than he thought. 

“Want a beer?” He said in way of greeting.

“Sure, thanks,” said Mitchell without turning around. 

Anders frowned at Mitchell’s dull greeting. Ugh, he hoped it wasn’t going to be one of _those_ evenings. There had been one or two times in the past week when Mitchell had become quiet and closed off, and to be honest it was just plain boring. Anders told him as such as he pulled two bottles from the fridge. 

“I hope you’re not going to be sulky and boring all evening,” he said popping the caps off, “no one falls in love with a frown.” It was a phrase his mother had used in an attempt to stop his tantrums as a child.

Mitchell turned, and for a moment his frown seemed deeper than ever, but then his face cleared, and he shook his head with a smile. “You little shit,” he took the beer Anders offered him, “you have no right to lecture me about being pissy. Need I remind you of last Wednesday – “

“Ugh, no that’s not necessary –“

“When you complained for nearly two hours straight because the store didn’t have the right fucking wine?” Mitchell hadn’t even been at the store with Anders, but had received a blow by blow account of the disappointing encounter when he returned, Anders had made sure of that.

“Thanks for that wonderful reminder. Just shut up and sit the fuck down, would you? There’s got to be something good on TV.” He lived in hope.

Mitchell rolled his eyes, “I hate the TV over here. It’s a load of bollocks.” 

“Quit your bitching, would you? It’s an unattractive quality.” He actually agreed with him on that, but gently shoved Mitchell onto the sofa, switching on the TV anyway.

Mitchell snorted at the hypocrisy of Anders’ remark, but flopped onto the sofa all the same, frowning at the inane soap on the TV screen. The God sprawled out next to him, smirking at the irritated look on Mitchell’s face as he invaded the vampire’s personal space. After an elbow to the ribs, Mitchell laughed and tried to shove him away, but with little success. After wriggling around some more, just to get a rise out of him, Anders eventually deigned to sit still. He could feel Mitchell’s thigh against his, which, for some reason he didn’t care to study, made him vaguely uncomfortable. Feeling his face heat a little, Anders did something he always did when he was feeling anxious – he said something stupid and/or insensitive.

“Mitchell, you can smell blood, right? Or sense it, whatever.”

“...Yes. Where is this going?” 

“Can you like, sense, if a woman’s on her period? That’s pretty blood orientated, right?”

There was a moment’s pause while Mitchell stared at him in disbelief. “That’s fucking disgusting, Anders.”

“So that’s a yes?” Anders raised his eyebrows as he sipped his beer.

“If I concentrate hard enough...” Mitchell said reluctantly, “then kinda, yeah.”

“That’s gross.”

“Well you asked!” snapped Mitchell heatedly, looking more pissed than ever when Anders just laughed.

“You didn’t have to answer. Useful though.”

_“What?”_

“So you can figure out which ones to avoid in a bar.”

Mitchell’s glare melted away as he laughed softly in the back of his throat, “You are such an idiot.” He turned to Anders and his smile slowly faded, eyes trained on his mouth. It was an expression Anders was used to seeing on other people when he spoke to them as Bragi, but he’d never seen it before on Mitchell. He could feel the vampire’s breath on his lips – and hang on did he actually even need to breathe, being dead and shit? But that was the least of his worries, because _what the fuck_ he knew what was going to happen next, because he’d been the one giving someone _that_ look more times then he cared to count. And yet despite knowing exactly what Mitchell was about to do, he did nothing to stop it. Instead he remained motionless where he sat, the few seconds Mitchell paused as if to give him a chance to back out of the inevitable felt like they dragged on for an eternity, and fuck this waiting around, Anders Johnson gets shit done! 

It was he, in the end, that closed the tiny gap between their mouths. He felt Mitchell jump slightly, and for a split second he worried that he’d somehow managed to get it all wrong and that wasn’t what Mitchell was going for at all. He’d look a proper tit then. But that worry was banished as Mitchell kissed him properly, his lips surprisingly cool, reminding Anders of the sensation of kissing someone who’s just sipped a drink with too much ice in. And God knows he’d experienced that often enough in the shady corners of bars. He felt Mitchell’s hand creep its way to his neck and fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head. Not to be outdone, he placed his own hand over Mitchell’s chest, grasping at his shirt and bringing them closer. Unfortunately, it was Anders’ mortality that forced him to pull away in the end, his need to breathe taking priority over winning this imagined contest of wills. As soon as they broke apart, the boldness that had made him press their lips together lifted, and he felt a mild panic clawing its way through him, threatening to force its way out of his mouth and make him say something rash and stupid that he’d regret. So he did what he always did when he felt the threat of panic raising its ugly head – he ran away.   
He cleared his throat and tried to smile.

“Well, I’m going to head to bed,” he gave Mitchell a ridiculous and over-compensating slap on the shoulder, instantly cringing at how awkward it had felt. “Goodnight!” He could hear the false brightness in his voice as he swung the bedroom door shut, taking a small sense of satisfaction at the solid click as it closed, a solid barrier between him and stupid decisions. 

_Shit._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be the shortest time between updates for anything I've written ever. Enjoy it while it lasts haa. Not sure when the next one will be, I've started writing another Durincest *facepalm*  
> I'm aware it may seem things are moving along a bit quickly, but that is intentional - circumstances throwing them together and whatnot.   
> Aaand I think that's all for now... there are too many feelings from the new Hobbit trailer, and I can't quite do words right now.

Well fuck. 

Anders had promised Dawn he’d be in early that morning, and he never broke his promise to a lady. Well, not when it mattered. Or involved his penis. Dawn was so surprised he had actually kept his word and turned up before noon for once, that she’d been only too happy to go and grab them both some coffee from the nice place on the corner. Just as well, he didn’t want her to witness him having a sexual identity crisis in the workplace.  
To be perfectly honest, he’d never even given the fact that he might like cock a thought. He’d hit puberty, started feeling funny around girls, had a particularly awkward conversation with Mike about becoming a man, and he’d never looked back. Especially after he’d hit 21 – there never really seemed to be a need to venture too far outside the norm, when he could charm any woman he’d wanted between his sheets. Well, he had acquired some slightly unusual tastes along the way – the toy box under his bed spoke for itself. Oh Jesus, he could only imagine all the taunts his arsehole brothers would throw his way if they knew... Axl would probably just crack up laughing, and Ty would smack him upside the head for all the times he’d used ‘gay’ as an insult. Either way, it wouldn’t be pleasant.   
But did that really matter? No. You know what, it fucking didn’t. It was an uplifting moment when Anders Johnson realised that he actually did not care. It didn’t matter to him whether the person he wanted to fuck was a man or a woman; as long as his cock was interested, he was interested. He’d never been one to deny himself anything when it came to sex, and now was not the time to start. Fuck everybody else – if he wanted to shag a dude, he would bloody well shag a dude. Dawn had just opened the door, coffees in hand, when he knew he’d made his decision – vampire or otherwise, he wanted the d. And he would fucking well get it.

He tried to get some work done, it was his bloody company after all, but it was mostly in vain. He could think of nothing but the creature of the night lurking around his brother’s home, and how much he wanted to shove his tongue down his throat, fuck the consequences. As a result, he spent most of the day watching the clock like a kid at school. The second it hit 5 o’clock, Anders grabbed his phone from the desk and walked briskly from the office.

“Bye Dawn,” he called as he swung the door shut.

“Bye Anders...” she trailed off with a wave when she realised he was already gone.

When Anders got home, Mitchell was sitting on the sofa, holding a mug and staring into its depths. He set it down on the coffee table when Anders came in, giving him a small, uncertain smile, and _fuck_ that should not have been so adorable. 

“Hey.”

Not bothering to answer, and not giving himself the chance to wimp out, Anders flung his phone and keys onto the counter and walked purposefully to where Mitchell sat. He probably looked a little demented, but hey-ho.

“Anders, what are you – “

Mitchell was cut off as Anders swung a leg over to straddle him and smashed their mouths together. Probably a little harder then was necessary, but he wanted to show Mitchell that he fucking meant it. And he may have been a little nervous. _Maybe._ For a split second, Mitchell was unresponsive, but that only made Anders try harder. He could seduce anyone he wanted, fucked if he was going to screw up his perfect record now. But then Mitchell groaned and pulled him closer, fingers gripping his shoulders hard.

“Anders,” Mitchell said against his lips after a few moments, trying to ease himself away, “Anders. Anders!” He said with more force as he successfully widened the gap between them, “Anders slow the fuck down.”

Anders stopped trying to smother him for a minute in favour of frowning at him. Now that was the kind of negative attitude that would get them nowhere. “Why?”

“I –“ Mitchell looked at him in thought for a moment, before laughing softly and bumping their foreheads together. The intimacy and familiarity of the gesture made Anders uncomfortable, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Mitchell finally replied. “I actually don’t have a good answer to that. Come here.” Before Anders could say anything, Mitchell was returning the kiss, smiling against Anders’ lips.

Anders celebrated his victory by kissing Mitchell harder, slowly and firmly, using every trick he knew to make this the best fucking kiss the vampire had ever had in his freakishly long life. Yes, Anders was often ruled by passion and spontaneity, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t taken the time to observe and calculate the most effective method to get someone ready to dive into his pants. He eased his tongue into Mitchell’s mouth, slow and deliberate, and placed a hand on the side of his face, stubble rough under his palm. He was embarrassingly hard embarrassingly quickly, but fucked if he was going to let Mitchell know how much he was affected. He stayed as still as he could while seated in the other’s lap. He always had the upper hand; that was how he worked. After a few minutes of Anders executing his formula for the technically perfect kiss, Mitchell pulled back, just enough so he could speak.

“Anders, you kiss weird.”

_What the actual fuck?_ “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly. I ‘kiss weird’?” Way to ruin the fucking moment. 

“Yeah,” Mitchell wriggled back a little so he could look Anders in the face, in doing so alerting Anders to the thick line of his cock pressing up through his jeans. _Holy fuck,_ this guy was packing. “You kiss like... I dunno, like you’re over-thinking it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s lovely and all but... you lack passion.” He shrugged. “You’ve got to let go, man. Do what feels right. I know it sounds lame but –“

For the second time that night, Mitchell was cut off as Anders kissed him. And after what he’d just said... alright yeah, it was corny as hell but that didn’t change the fact that Mitchell was right. And the thought of giving up control to someone else was appealing to say the least. Anders prided himself on his ability to keep control of the situation, to manipulate, to be the one pulling the strings and keeping his own emotions out of the equation. Of course being Bragi didn’t fucking help that – it was way too easy to get used to people doing what you told them to. But Mitchell was right and it was time to loosen up, to feel. It was too fucking late now anyway – he was kissing Mitchell hard and messy, with the satisfyingly rough scrape of stubble and perhaps more spit than he was used to. And if the growl that escaped Mitchell’s throat was any indication, this was much more to his taste.   
One of Mitchell’s hands splayed over his back, the other grasping the back of his head and curling into his hair, hard enough to twinge a bit, and if that only turned Anders on more, well that was his business. Unable (and unwilling) to check himself like he would usually, he drew Mitchell’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down and sucking gently. It happened so quickly it was like he’d flicked a switch – Mitchell swung Anders off his lap and pushed him down onto the sofa, pinning him between his thighs as he continued to kiss him to within an inch of his life. Anders was practically breathless with the force of their kisses, and the weight of Mitchell pressing down onto his chest.  
Fuck. He’d always liked dominant women he could play off, but it was something else entirely to be held down by weight and strength alone. He uncoiled his hands from where they were grasping the back of Mitchell’s shirt and ran them down his back, slipping under the waistband of his jeans and grasping his arse through his underwear. Mitchell gasped into his mouth and rolled his hips down to meet Anders. Without much recollection of how it even happened, Anders was pushing his hips up into Mitchell’s, fully clothed, rubbing himself against him like a fucking kid. He had never counted himself as loud in bed, but the groans and shouts that he was dimly aware of were definitely coming from his own mouth. He might have been embarrassed if he wasn’t so fucking desperate to get off.

It was actually a relief when he felt Mitchell’s hand slide down between them and pull his fly open, slipping into his boxers and running along his cock. About fucking time. Too far gone to worry about dignity, Anders thrust up into his grip. He almost didn’t notice at first when Mitchell’s hand moved to undo his own jeans, pulling his cock free. Despite his numerous sexual adventures, he’d never been in such close contact with another guy’s hard cock, and he felt an embarrassing flutter of nervousness at the unknown. But that was dulled considerably when Mitchell took both their cocks together in his hand and Anders actually hissed at the strange and wonderful contact. Unable to stop himself, he began to move in a sloppy rhythm that Mitchell met with a soft groan. He began to kiss down Mitchell’s neck as far as he could reach from the slightly awkward angle. He didn’t know if Mitchell would like it, given his past, but fuck that shit, he wanted to. Their movements were getting messier, less co-ordinated, and Anders could feel the tightness growing in his belly. Dimly worried about the fact that he was about to get come all over his nicest work clothes, Anders tried and failed to slow the inevitable.   
That was shot to hell of course, when Mitchell pressed his mouth close to his ear, and said, his voice low and rasping, “Come for me, Anders Johnson.”

“Holy fuck...” Unable to hold back anymore, he did so, panting hard, with Mitchell following a few moments after. 

Shit.

Mitchell rolled off him, as best he could anyway, with the limited space on the sofa. They lay still, catching their breath, and those few moments were all Anders needed to get his shit together.

“I should... I should get to sleep,” he pressed a quick kiss to Mitchell’s lips and lay back on the sofa, making it clear he meant to sleep there, right now, change of clothes be damned. The jizz on drying on his skin would be harder to ignore. “See you in the morning, yeah?”

“I – Yeah. Night.”

He noticed the confusion behind Mitchell’s smile as he left for the spare bedroom. If he took offense at Anders’ abrupt dismissal, that was his problem. As much as he had enjoyed what had just happened, Anders did not do cuddling, and he most certainly did not want to bring the symbol of the bed into this... whatever the fuck it was they were doing. It felt too committed, too much like a real relationship to let someone into his bed. That is, someone that he didn’t have to persuade in there first with the help of Bragi. To have someone make the choice entirely off their own back... it was something Anders wasn’t used to. 

~*~

When Mitchell woke, he felt relaxed and vaguely content, something he had not felt for a long while. Clearly, he needed to get laid more often, if feeling this at ease was the end result. It had been a while, a long while at that, and it was nice to feel a different kind of satiation rather than the old fulfilling of bloodlust.   
He never had been a clingy sleeper, though he didn’t share a bed often enough to really notice it anymore, but it still surprised him slightly to find the other half of the bed empty. Until he remembered it was Anders that he had fooled around with – the man clearly had so many unresolved commitment issues it would have been concerning, if Mitchell didn’t have similar problems himself. He had been with a few other men before, though he generally veered towards girls, so it was not an entirely foreign concept to him. Especially when it came to feeding, and it didn’t matter who he charmed as long as he got what he wanted out of it. But Anders was clearly unfamiliar with men, and he couldn’t help but wonder if what had happened last night had just been Anders trying to prove a point, to win some kind of imagined bet that he couldn’t go through with giving himself sexually to another man... but at the end of the day, Mitchell had still enjoyed himself, so there was no harm done.

Dragging himself out of bed, revelling in the comfortable looseness of his sated body, he was incredibly thankful he’d had the foresight to wash last night. Dried come was his second least favourite thing to wake up to, after dried blood. He pulled on his crumpled jeans (he really had to persuade Anders to let him go and pick up his stuff from the hotel, he couldn’t live in the same clothes forever) and wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee. He usually made tea to calm himself down or cheer himself up – a habit he’d picked up from Annie – but he was in a pleasant enough mood not to need to comfort factor that morning.

He had just flicked the kettle on when he heard the bathroom door open. Turning with a smile, he saw a freshly showered and dressed for work Anders eyeing him up. Mitchell was glad he’d neglected to put on his shirt before leaving the bedroom.

“Morning.”

Anders didn’t reply, just matched his smile and strode across the room to him, pulling him into a demanding kiss that left no room to doubt what had happened last night. Eventually, he released Mitchell, looking so pleased with himself that Mitchell couldn’t help but laugh.

“Was that a ‘good morning look how unafraid of kissing guys I am’ kiss?”

Anders just snorted and straightened the cuffs of his shirt, “Shut up, Twilight.”

“Whatever you say,” said Mitchell, hiding his grin. He had learnt that Anders usually only called him that when he could think of no better comeback. “Want some breakfast?”

“Do you mean regular breakfast, or the more fun, metaphorical kind of breakfast that involves nudity?” He was checking his tie now. Good God was that man a perfectionist, and Mitchell found himself wanting to mess him up more and more by the minute.

“Regular breakfast, you prick,” despite his words, he couldn’t stop the smile that came with them.

“Regrettably, I have time for neither. Dawn’ll have my balls if I’m late again. Which is not as fun as it sounds.” He patted down his pockets, “Where the fuck are my keys?”

“On the counter. Where you left them.”

“..Right.” Anders reached out to pick them up when his phone rang. Mitchell noticed him frown at the screen before he answered. “Yes?”

Mitchell ignored most of the brief conversation Anders was having; firstly because it wasn’t his place to get involved and secondly it hardly sounded exciting, if the monosyllabic answers the man was giving were anything to go by. Instead, he dug through the cupboards to find something to eat. It shouldn’t have been the case considering all he’d dealt with since coming over from England, but he found the lack of familiar food brands the most unsettling thing about being there. 

“That was the builders,” Anders said with a yawn as he hung up the phone and interrupted Mitchell’s thoughts of what was best to put on his toast, “they’ve finally taken out the last of the dustsheets, and I can move back in.”

“Oh.” Mitchell wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, or what he was meant to say back.

“But we still need to keep an eye on you,” Anders sounded slightly hesitant under his usual bravado, and that was something new entirely, “So it’s up to you, Mitchell. Either you can stay here with Ty, and have his spare room,” he exhaled, a long low breath that Mitchell wasn’t sure if it was a sign of discomfort or for dramatic effect – it was hard to tell with Anders, “or you can come stay with me for a while. The only catch being, I don’t have a spare room.”

The insinuation Anders was making was clear, especially when accompanied by the suggestive raising of his eyebrow. Two could play at that game. Mitchell widened his eyes innocently in pretend confusion, “You mean I can stay on your sofa?” He tried not to laugh.

“Mitchell, you know exactly what I – “

His attempts at holding back laughter failed, and he chuckled at the exasperation on Anders’ face. “I know, I’m sorry. I’d be honoured to live with you, Anders Johnson.”

“We’re not living together you prick, you’re staying with me until we figure out if you’re on a mission to wipe out all of God-kind remember?”

“Yes, yes I know, and the best way to do that just happens to be from your bed.” He hesitated, before adding, daringly, “I thought you didn’t like sharing?”

Anders paused for a moment, like he hadn’t really given his invitation as much thought as he should have. “Just... shut up and pack your stuff, idiot, before I change my mind and leave you here with my ice cube of a brother.”

~*~

Now, Anders had never been one to go into great depth about his feelings, because the mere mention of the word made him think about support groups and self-help books, it reeked of dependency and being tied down, and it scared the hell out of him. But he had to make one thing clear to Mitchell, here and now, before things went any further. It was an old habit; to make sure he always had a way of escape, a plan allowing him to back out if anything went wrong. He may have taken up residency in Anders’ bed, but that didn’t mean the same went for his heart.

“You understand,” he started, even as he pressed a kiss to Mitchell’s neck, feeling the slight shudder it caused the other man, “that this isn’t an exclusive thing, right? I mean,” he pulled away, still unwilling to look at Mitchell, instead turning his eyes to the ceiling, “I’m not a one-woman man – one-man man – whatever. What I’m saying is, don’t expect me to suddenly drop all the other potential shags out there, because of this,” he gestured vaguely between the two of them, “and I won’t expect the same from you.” He finally risked a glance at Mitchell, expecting to see anger, or at least the hurt look that usually followed when he had made declarations of a similar sort to past lovers. Instead, Mitchell snorted and rolled his eyes as he stood.

“If it please your highness,” he said with a smirk as he rose from the sofa and strolled over to the bathroom, Anders’ eyes following his bare arse, “there’s no need to be so fucking dramatic about it.” He yawned and pulled the door shut behind him, and Anders found he was slightly disappointed Mitchell hadn’t put up more of a fight.

~*~

Bathroom door shut firmly behind him, Mitchell turned to the small mirror above the sink. For a long while, he just stared at where his reflection would have been, if he’d never been born into this half-life. But then, he never would have been in this very bathroom, with the half naked god of a man (literally) sprawled across the sofa in the next room. So it was sort of a moot point.  
He was far from ready to commit to this thing, whatever it was, and if the small amount he knew about Anders was true, the same went for him. Both of them liked to know there was always an escape route open if things got messy. But after his hundred or so years wandering the world, he was willing to give anything that felt good a try in an attempt to balance out the bad times. He was used to taking happiness where he could get it. At the very least he would get a couple of months of decent sex out of the arrangement, before one or both of them got tired of it and moved on. The worst that could happen... he’d rather not think about it. He was well aware that they both had a lot of issues, human and otherwise, and this would probably end in tears, if his time as a vampire had taught him anything.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated this in forever, sorry. Downton Abbey came back on TV and distracted me from everything else.  
> But I will finish this, I promise. It may just take a while. Still, Halloween seems an appropriate day to update this bitch :)
> 
> Note: In this AU, the boys' mum has stayed as a tree, and they aren't reunited with her. However, they do still know the other Goddesses and hang out with them much like they do in S2 and S3.

As with every morning, Ty woke to those blissful few moments of numbness before all the bad things in life can catch up with you again. But on this particular morning, nothing bad could keep him down. Actually every morning for the past few weeks, he’d woken up happier than he could remember being since before he’d turned twenty one, now that he had Dawn to wake up next to. However, this morning was even more special than any other so far. Last night, he and Dawn had slept together properly for the first time, and though he felt a little like a ridiculous blushing teenager, he couldn’t deny how happy it had made him. He could practically hear Anders snorting in derision at how hopelessly in love he was with her, but then he realised his obnoxious brother was the last he thing he wanted to dwell on when he could instead be thinking about Dawn. Not that he could really stop himself.   
He smiled and opened his eyes, starting to wriggle out of the sleeping bag he insisted on sleeping in to protect the woman he loved from the inhuman coldness of his body. Something across the room caught his eye, and he sat up properly to see Dawn standing at the foot of the bed, hair tousled and still wearing her nightie.

“Morning,” he smiled, content and sincerely pleased to see her face first thing in the morning. Only, she didn’t look nearly as happy herself. Her pale face was frozen in a mix of fear and confusion as she returned his greeting.

“Hey,” she swallowed.

“Dawn,” he said slowly, smile fading and concern growing as he took in her clenched fists and tense frame, “are you – are you OK?”

“Ty,” she started, her voice wavering, “I’m going to ask you a question, and it may sound a stupid one, but I need you to answer it, OK?”

He frowned. “...Alright?”

“Right,” she let out a long breath. “Can you see me?”

Well that was unexpected. And confusing. “Dawn... are you sure you’re OK?”

“Just answer the question Ty!” she said, high and desperate.

“Alright! Yes, I can see you.” He thought that would have been self-explanatory, since he’d been talking to her for the last five minutes. “Should I not be able to, or...?” 

“I think I might be dead.”

“...What?” This was getting more worrying by the second. Did she somehow know his greatest fear was causing her death inadvertently through Hodr? He bloody hoped not. But it seemed far too coincidental that she’d just given voice to the dark thoughts that plagued him. “What makes you say that?” He asked, though he didn’t think he wanted to know the answer. 

“Because I’m dead.” She raised her visibly shaking arm and pointed next to Ty on the bed. He turned his head slowly, terrified of what he was about to see. And sure enough, his greatest fear lay next to him on the bed – Dawn’s lifeless body. Her skin was pale and grey, arm reaching across to his side of the bed, fingers outstretched, frozen to death just because she had touched him for too long.  
Ty didn’t know how long he remained still, staring at what was undeniably Dawn’s body on the bed. Eventually, some sort of sense started to creep back to him, and he reached across, determined not to let his hand shake, and placed his fingers on her neck. He was glad he couldn’t feel the cold; he didn’t think he could have handled the touch of her lifeless, chilled skin under his hand. He searched for a pulse under her skin for a long moment, but with no luck. He could feel the horrible pressure inside him, waves of horror, sadness and guilt, all building up inside him, ready to break, all because he had caused the death of the woman he loved. But he was startled out of his misery by a groan from the foot of the bed.

“I definitely dead, aren’t I? That’s me, and I’m dead.”

“I – yes, it looks like it.” He really should have been used to these sorts of occurrences by now, what with his ridiculous family. But this was something he could never have been prepared for. Not that he had much of an understanding as to what was going on anyway. “But if you’re dead,” he tried not to look at the body next to him, “then how can you be standing right here, talking to me?”

“I – I don’t know.” 

~*~

“Why can’t we have naked breakfast?” said Anders over the top of his coffee, “Naked breakfast is the best kind.”

Mitchell snorted and continued to butter his toast, “It is most definitely not.”

“Come on, it’d be great fun,” Anders set down his coffee with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, and began digging through Ty’s cupboards, “and a great way to celebrate our last morning in my dear brother’s house.”

“By shagging in his kitchen?”

“Yes. Although the content of his cupboards does limit what we can do... Aha!” he turned around, triumphant, setting a bottle down on the counter, “Syrup.”

Mitchell raised an eyebrow and damn his ‘exasperated with Anders’ face should not be so sexy, “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious,” he countered, “what’s naked breakfast without syrup?”

“You’re used to dating women, Anders,” the vampire said around a mouthful of toast, “in which case yeah, the syrup might be enjoyable. But have you seen how fucking hairy I am? Eating syrup off me would be like licking a carpet.”

“I – you may have a point there,” Anders frowned. “Can we at least have shirtless breakfast?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Mitchell muttered, though Anders noticed he wasn’t quite able to keep the smile off his face.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes please, Anders,’” he said with a smirk as he crossed over to the other side of the counter and hooked his fingers under the hem of Mitchell’s shirt.

“No, Anders,” said Mitchell firmly, though he was still smiling.

“Please?” Anders let Bragi seep into his voice, though he knew it wouldn’t do him much good, and ran his fingers lightly up Mitchell’s side.

“No,” Mitchell laughed softly and squirmed under the contact and holy fuck, was he ticklish?

“Oh, I see,” he smirked and dug his fingers a little harder into Mitchell’s sides. His eyes widened, and Anders held back a grin at his discovery.

“No. No, no you – Agh, you little bastard!” Anders’ phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, distracting him for a moment and giving Mitchell the time to slip out of his grasp and regain his composure. “You little bastard,” he repeated with a smile, “I hate that.”

“I object to being called ‘little,’” said Anders distractedly as he opened the message on his phone, “all the rest is probably true.” Mitchell just snorted again and wandered over to the TV. The text he’d received was short and to the point, and he should have been expecting it, really. Anders knew there was no way of getting out of it, just like every other year. “Yo Twilight?”

“Hmm? What is it?” Mitchell said absently as he flipped through the channels.

“You’d better make yourself look pretty later. We’re going to a BBQ.”

“What? Why?”

Anders sighed, and prepared himself for the onslaught of questions. “It’s my mum’s birthday.”

Mitchell narrowed his eyes at him, “Is this some creepy, round-about way of asking me to meet your mother? I’m not sure that’s a good idea, what with me being – you know.” He gestured vaguely to himself.

Anders winced, and wished his family wasn’t quite so ridiculous. “No. She won’t actually be there...”

“So why are you having a birthday party for her? Oh fuck, is she dead? Like a memorial thing? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean –“

“No, no. I wish she was dead, it would be less embarrassing,” he muttered. “She sort of... left us, a few years ago. But not exactly on bad terms, and we don’t really know if she’ll ever come back, so there’s that, and –“

“Anders, get to the fucking point.”

“She’s a tree.”

~*~

Mitchell was almost grateful all his known family was long dead; he’d forgotten how complicated they could be. Admittedly, he’d never had a parent who’d elected to become a tree, so he wasn’t really sure he could comment. Annie and George were complicated enough at times, that they may as well have been relatives. He missed them, he supposed. A small wave of guilt rolled through him as he thought of his housemates; he felt kind of bad about leaving them with no warning or without saying where he was going, but then they would have followed him, of course they would, and he would have dragged them into trouble yet again.  
He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous about meeting the rest of Anders’ family properly. Well, not nervous so much as apprehensive. ‘Nervous’ made him sound like a teenager, which was so very far from the truth he had to fight back a wry smile. He was wary of new people at the best of times, families particularly, and given he was about to meet an entire family of Gods with powers of an unknown strength, he doubly on his guard. He also wasn’t sure how much they knew about him; Mike and Olaf knew of his... situation, but would they have told the others? But perhaps, most of all, he worried that Anders’ family would somehow be able to tell just by looking at him that he’d spent an hour and half in the shower snogging the aforementioned man that morning. 

“What you thinking about?” Anders interrupted his thoughts as they walked up the road to Mike’s place. They had elected to walk to they could completely smashed without endangering the general public on their way home later.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Was it my cock?”

That was startlingly close to the truth. “Jesus, Anders. Just because you spend all day thinking about your prick, doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

“So that’s a yes then?”

Mitchell chose not to reply and instead shoved Anders into the road.

“Hey! You fucking psychopath. What if there was a car coming?”

“Well there wasn’t, was there.”

“No, but what if there was.”

Mitchell rolled his eyes as they stopped outside Mike’s door. He raised his hand to knock, but Anders just snorted and pushed open the door to the bar before he could do it, and let himself in. Shoving his hands in his pockets, Mitchell trailed after him, eyes casually following the lines of Anders’ body as he walked in front of him. Damn, did that man know how to dress well. It made messing him up all the more satisfying.  
Anders led the way through the bar and out the back door, into a small paved area that served as a back yard. Mike was tending to a rickety looking BBQ, a tall woman standing next to him and eyeing the cooking meat with distaste. Ty sat close by, holding a beer and looking as though he had the weight of the world resting on his shoulders. Mitchell knew that look; he’d seen it on the faces of so many, in his time. Olaf was sitting sprawled on a deck chair, a tiny blonde woman perched in his lap, and laughing with another woman sitting next to them, smoking a cigarette that Mitchell was willing to bet almost anything wasn’t just regular tobacco. There were a few others there that Mitchell didn’t recognise, together making far more than he was comfortable with, and he was about to pull Anders aside and tell him that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, when the smoking woman noticed them and sat up straighter.

“Anders,” she called and waved enthusiastically, almost catching Olaf in the face with the lit cigarette. Olaf didn’t seem to notice.

“Always a pleasure, Ingrid,” Anders said with a smile.

“And who is this?” The woman, Ingrid, asked, giving Mitchell an approving once over, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to turn away or smile. 

“This is Mitchell, a friend of mine I met while I was away,” Anders lied smoothly, and Mitchell almost snorted at the obscenely simplified version of events.

“Is that so? Well, he’s very handsome I must say. Good strong chest, I like that in a man.”

Mitchell laughed and decided he did in fact like Ingrid. “Lovely to meet you.”

She gave him a warm, genuine smile, an expression Mitchell rarely saw directed at himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad... but then he saw how she subtly sniffed the air, and shared a meaningful glance with Olaf. Not as harmless as she seemed, perhaps. 

“Olaf you’ve met,” said Anders with a dismissive wave of his hand, “and this is his... Stacey.”

“Hi,” the woman in Olaf’s lap smiled brightly and gave him a once over much like Ingrid had.

He nodded in greeting, and deciding Ingrid maybe had a point, gently scented the air. The women smelled similar to Anders, but lighter, and fainter. So, Goddesses then. Anders led him away to meet more of those present, and Mitchell felt his apprehension grow as he realised he didn’t even know just how many of them were not mortal.   
On his guard, Mitchell made sure to keep track of each person Anders hurriedly introduced him to. Ty he already knew, and Mike. The unimpressed looking woman lingering at Mike’s side introduced herself as Michelle – another Goddess. Then came Anders’ brother, Axl, who Mitchell knew little about other than he was Odin and kind of a big deal, and the reason Anders had ended up in the UK to begin with. Despite Anders’ bitching, Mitchell actually got on quite well with the youngest Johnson brother; he seemed laid back and friendly despite the power Mitchell could sense pulsing through his blood, and Mitchell made a point of being extra nice to him, if only to piss Anders off. Axl’s two flatmates though, introduced as Zeb and Gaia, were mortal. Anders had hissed this information in Mitchell’s ear just before introducing them, the soft breath of Anders’ words on his skin catching him by surprise and making him want to shove the other man against the wall and kiss the words right out of him. The intensity of this feeling caught him totally off guard, and he quickly pushed it aside in favour of sniffing the air gently, confirming that Axl’s friends were in fact mortal.  
Introductions over, Mitchell walked over to chat to Ty. He was the only one Mitchell had spoken to comfortably before, and since he had lived in his home for over a week, he felt he should at least ask how he was doing. Anders, prick that he was, had taken one look at his brother’s brooding face and decided he’d rather go and talk to Michelle. 

“Hello, Ty,” he said with what was hopefully a friendly smile as he sat next to him, beer in hand. Was it colder over here or... Ty barely acknowledged him. “You don’t look so hot. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Ty said with a noticeably forced smile, “Dawn’s just... not feeling too great, and it’s got me a little worried.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Mitchell truthfully, though he thought maybe Ty was overreacting slightly. Either that or he was lying. He almost asked if it was some kind of God thing, before he remembered Ty didn’t know he was aware of the peculiarities of the Johnson family, and held his tongue.

“So, how’s living with Anders?” Ty changed the subject with false brightness. “From past experience, it’s a bit of a chore.”

“I’ve lived with worse.” Mitchell tried not to dwell on just how much worse his past house mates had been, in comparison to a slightly self-centred and constantly horny Norse deity. 

“I find that hard to believe,” said Ty with half a smile. “But you do know you could have stayed with me if you wanted. I’ve got a spare room after all, which I’m guessing is better than Anders’ sofa.”

“I...” Anders obviously hadn’t told his family the exact nature of their relationship – he definitely wasn’t sleeping on the sofa. He wasn’t at all surprised, given that both Anders and himself shied away from labelling their barely begun relationship (if it even deserved such a title; fuck buddies seemed more fitting.) That coupled with the fact that Anders’ family still believed him to be straight and a notorious womanizer and that Anders didn’t confide in his family at the best of times made it perfectly understandable that it hadn’t come up in conversation. But that didn’t make it any easier to come up with an excuse for them living in such close proximity on the spot. “Umm...”

“Ugh Mitchell, don’t sit so close to Ty while he looks so damn miserable, it might be catching.”

Thank fuck for Anders and his ability to interrupt other people’s conversations without sparing a thought that it might be considered rude.

“Oh, fuck off Anders,” if anything, Anders’ sudden appearance made Ty look even more unhappy.

“Don’t be like that bro, I just want a word with Mitchell,” said Anders as he walked away, jerking his head to show he wanted Mitchell to follow. 

“What do you want?” said Mitchell when they were standing close to each other in a corner of the yard, out of earshot from the others. “You’re brother is clearly upset about something, and since you don’t seem to care enough to find out why, the least you could do is be nice to him for fuck’s sake.”

“Do you not know me at all?” said Anders with a disapproving shake of his head. “Never mind Ty, there’s something I’d much rather be doing than listening to his sorry sob stories.”

Mitchell snorted in irritation. “Oh really, and what’s that?”

“You.”

“Really, Anders?” Mitchell gave him a flat stare, trying to hide how the hungry way Anders was looking at him was affecting him. It was frighteningly similar to the look a vampire gave someone they were hunting. He’d seen it enough times to know the look of a predator. And yet he’d never found it sexy before. “Now is hardly the fucking time.”

“Come on, just one kiss. I don’t think I can wait until later,” Anders was practically purring, and Mitchell was incredibly thankful Bragi had little effect on him, or he’d probably be dry humping Anders in the middle of Mike’s back yard by now, family gathering or no. 

“I thought you didn’t want your family to know about this yet,” he said quietly with a hint of a smile, leaving the fact that neither of them knew exactly what it was yet either unsaid.

“Ahh fuck that,” said Anders, sneaking an arm around Mitchell to pull him closer, and Mitchell knew he really shouldn’t find it so adorable that Anders was a good deal shorter than him. God, he was in trouble. “Let me kiss you,” Anders said quietly, though he was so close to Mitchell now that he doubted they would actually even need to kiss for the others to guess what was going on, “and they can draw whatever conclusion from that they want. I really don’t give a fuck what they think.”

Mitchell was just about to give in and kiss the insufferable man to within an inch of his life just to shut him up, family gathering or no, when a loud bang and a shout from Mike made them look up.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Taking in the sight of the two people who had just burst in through the back door of the bar, Mitchell extricated himself from Anders and stared at them in disbelief.

“George. Annie... what the fuck are you doing here?”


End file.
